Enough Time
by Soulan
Summary: Based on the premise of the movie Groundhog Day. Ennis lives one day over and over until he gets it right.
1. Chapter 1

**ENOUGH TIME**

Inspired by the premise of the movie _Groundhog Day_

**This story was originally posted on LiveJournal in 2008 and is illustrated there with photographs by Richard Avedon from his book In the American West. To read that version, or just see the pictures, go to soulan dot livejournal dot com / 10820 dot html**

It was nearly midnight when Ennis stumbled up the two steps to the porch of his brother's tiny house and reeled through the unlocked door. He shuffled across the dark living room, banged his leg on the couch and collapsed onto it. He shouldn't have gone to the bar before coming here, but where else do you go at the end of the worst day of your life?

He dropped his hat on the floor along with the potato sack containing his meager belongings and stretched out. As his eyelids drooped shut he heard a sound, a baby whimpering, and he remembered that KE's little girl had been born a month before Ennis gone up to herd sheep. He'd seen her only once, and until now had forgotten she existed. A light went on down the hall and a moment later Peggy appeared in the doorway wrapped in a bathrobe. He was glad he couldn't see her eyes because they made him squirm. Piercing they were, clear and blue... not the same blue as... they were nearly green. She yawned as she approached the couch.

"Ennis? Why're you here?" She stood over him. "Thought you were gonna be up there another month."

"Storm came up, had ta bring 'em down early," he mumbled. He just wanted to escape into sleep.

"You need a blanket?"

"Nah. Warm down here."

"G'night then. Talk to you in the morning." She smirked and added, "Feel free to take a shower."

When she'd gone, Ennis sat up and pulled off his boots but kept his jacket on. Maybe in the morning it would all seem like a dream and he would resume his normal life.

He awoke to snow. Heavy, wet flakes drifted onto his face and melted at once and for a few seconds, before he opened his eyes, he believed they were kisses planted by icy lips. He squinted into the gray light filtering through the canvas and listened to the _fip fip_ of snow settling on the tent. A big, warm lump beside his knee squirmed when he nudged it – both of the dogs had abandoned their wooly charges to shelter with Ennis. He widened the gap between the tent flaps and stared at the veiled peaks and the dark firs outlined in white. Strange to have two consecutive days of snow in August.

It hit him like a brick: _We left yesterday_. He'd punched him, then fixed his truck and just walked away like... like he was simply a guy he worked with. That's what it must have seemed like to Jack. A trucker had given Ennis a lift to Riverton, where he'd gone and got drunk and afterwards fallen asleep on KE and Peggy's couch. Then why was he back here?

He heard a thump and a snort some distance away, just like yesterday: Cigar Butt pawing at the ground trying to find a mouthful of grass. The snow was wet and coated the ground like lather, the whiskery grass blades poking through it. Here and there, where the masses of clouds thinned and tore apart, blue sky peeked through and the snow began to let up. The sheep were a shifting mass of white and beige emitting the occasional bleat. He could hear another, more urgent _mehhh_ coming from further away, sounding almost human in its distress. One of the dogs, the one who was more single-minded about her duties, suddenly sat up, immediately alert to the cry, and bounded out into the snow. _Just like yesterday._

After a few minutes the snow stopped completely and he crawled out of the tent. The day before, the shock of the cold had sent him flailing around but now he just stood with the blanket wrapped around him, trying to make sense of the situation. The ewe's cries intensified; he bent to the opening and frowned at the other dog who was still curled up, fast asleep. "Well?" he snapped. She yawned and rose from her nest, stretched her hind legs languidly, then crept out into the snow. When she heard the ewe she trotted away. He spent several minutes brushing snow off the horse and the tack, then saddled up and rode toward the boulder where he'd found a sheep huddling the day before. It was the same one, along with her lamb. After the dogs had driven them back to the flock, the three of them patrolled the area looking for other strays, but like yesterday there were none. Now he was anxious to see if Jack was down there; if it was Friday again he should be heading down to the bridge soon. He fed the dogs and headed out, not bothering to roll up the tent. As he descended past the tree line, the sun came out and the temperature rose, sending rivulets of snowmelt rushing along the path. An hour later, as he drew near the camp, there were only patches of snow left in spots the sun hadn't reached.

At the sight of Jack standing near the tent with his back to him, looking down the trail, he drew a deep breath and felt gladness flood through him: he'd dreamt it all. But then Jack turned to the tent and began untying the stays, and when the canvas collapsed to the ground his heart dropped as well. When he drew near and dismounted, Jack turned toward him, a stricken look on his face.

"You just missed Aguirre. He said my uncle didn't die after all." He looked at the ground, his hands in his back pockets. "Said there's an even bigger storm comin. We gotta bring 'em down."

Ennis felt riveted to the earth while his mind and heart were churning with confusion. He couldn't believe he was going through this again.

"Is this still the middle of August?" he asked wonderingly, and Jack looked up in surprise. Ennis slowly turned and willed his legs to carry him to the chopping block and lowered himself onto it, just as he had done the previous day. He picked up a piece of kindling and examined it – the same piece! – then tossed it aside and leaned his elbows on his knees, unable to think past this moment that was replaying itself almost identically to the day before. But it was worse, because now he knew how he'd feel for the rest of the day and maybe for the rest of his life. Yet he couldn't see any way to change the outcome.

"Shit," he breathed out.

"Is it the money you're worried about?" Jack asked, with a certain tone that Ennis didn't recognize.

Ennis couldn't bear it any longer, the feeling of falling headlong from... He rose abruptly and strode away toward the meadow he'd retreated to before. The sky was clear now and the sun beat down, the brightness making the wildflowers sparkle in the grass. He followed the same path, and sat down in the same place. Instead of staring at the ground this time, he watched Jack pack up their household and load it onto the mule, his heart twisting. And then Jack was making his way over to him, carrying the coil of rope. But he didn't twirl the lariat, he simply walked up to Ennis and tapped the rope against his knee.

"We gotta go, friend."

Ennis wondered if he'd woken up to the same day but a different world that morning, one in which Jack's playful spirit had died or never come to life. All these weeks he had relied on Jack to make him laugh, and talk, and now he wasn't even bothering. Ennis held up his hand as if asking for help up, and when Jack took it Ennis yanked his arm, knocking him off balance. Jack toppled onto Ennis, laughing, but Ennis couldn't revel in the sound because of the intense pain flaring on his cheekbone. Jack's elbow had hit his face and as they rolled down the slope, the pain mixed with confusion combusted in him. He grappled with Jack and seized hold of his shirt in a rage, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking him to mask his own quaking despair. "Ennis! Ennis!" Jack gasped, but he tightened his grip and wrenched at the shirt until he heard the seams rip. He opened his eyes at the sound to find himself staring down at Jack's chest, pale skin showing through the rents in the blue cotton. He felt torn too, wanting to both hit Jack and press his face into his skin. Before he could do either, Jack shoved him away.

"Goddammit Ennis, you know I only got one shirt left!" Jack rolled away and scrambled to his feet. He stood over Ennis, glaring. His hat had come off and lay near Ennis' hand. Ennis picked it up and brushed bits of grass from it, stalling for time. His cheekbone hurt like hell and he knew there'd be a bruise, just like the one Jack had borne yesterday. What the hell was happening here? He looked up at Jack and handed him his hat.

"Shit. Sorry," he mumbled. "You can wear my spare."

"Alright." Ennis was about to hold up his hand as he'd done moments before but Jack turned away and stalked back to the horses.

After Jack changed into Ennis' shirt, they made their way up to the sheep, where they rounded them up and Ennis packed the pup tent. Then, like the day before, they rode in sullen silence. Halfway down, the sky clouded up again and rain began to fall; at least Ennis had known to switch the waterproof jackets to the top of the saddle bags. At the assembly point, Aguirre complained about the count and made his ranch stiffs crack, but Ennis felt too confused for it to make an impression.

Aguirre paid them off at the trailer. The nausea Ennis had felt the day before in the alley started coming on him as Jack tried to coax his truck's engine into life. Ennis didn't see any point in going through the previous routine; he immediately opened the hood and fiddled briefly with the carburator. Jack gave him a funny look, said he didn't know Ennis was such a good mechanic. But the engine started.

Now came the moment of truth that couldn't be put off. He hoped Jack wouldn't offer him a lift, because he didn't want to say yes but wouldn't be able to say no. And then it would just be delaying the inevitable. For a few moments they stayed frozen in place, Ennis standing next to the truck, Jack inside. Jack got out of the truck and shut the door.

"I'll probably do this again next year," he said, looking directly into Ennis' eyes.

Ennis looked at the ground and shifted against the hot metal, twisting the potato bag in his hands. "Well, me and Alma're gettin married in November so I'll have to look for somethin on a ranch." He held up the bag. "Got your shirt in here, you want it?"

"You keep it," Jack replied, his voice cracking. "Maybe she can mend it."

"Yeah, maybe." So he turned away; he had to, otherwise he'd collapse right there. He clutched the bag to his stomach as he staggered off, heard the truck door open and then slam shut. Jack's truck swerved around him, and the second it was out of sight he bolted into the little alley, dropped to his knees and retched, then sobbed as nothing came out. Was this the punishment for this summer, having to live the end of it twice?

"You alright, mister?" It was the same man from yesterday.

Ennis glanced at him briefly then back at the ground. "Just ate somethin bad is all," he muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve.

After a few minutes, he got up off the ground and trudged to the junction. The truck that had stopped for him previously came into view, but the driver had been a talker and he didn't want to put up with that again, so he turned away to take a leak. Ten minutes later a smaller vehicle appeared. As the black pickup got closer his heart started hammering and his mouth went dry. When he saw the black hat through the windshield his knees nearly buckled. Shit! If he went with Jack he was doomed. But he knew no power in the world could make him refuse the ride. The truck rattled up alongside him as his lips pulled back into a smile, joy and dismay warring in him, and he stepped up to the window.

It wasn't Jack. The brick he'd felt in his chest that morning dropped through his gut, scraping him all the way. The man was maybe twenty years older and solidly built, his soft features shadowed by the dark stubble on his jaw. His eyes were light-colored but not exactly blue; he looked closely at Ennis and didn't smile, though his face was not unkind.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Riverton."

"I'm going near there." He had an accent Ennis didn't recognize. The door creaked when Ennis opened it, just like Jack's. The man pulled back onto the road and after a minute he spoke again.

"You look like you just lost your best friend."

Ennis clenched his hands on the potato sack and turned his head to look through the window at the prairie unfurling alongside the truck, feeling his anger rise. This was too much. "What would you know about it," he muttered.

"Enough for any man, is what I know," the man replied evenly after a moment. Ennis felt ashamed. Most people do have friends, he reminded himself, and sometimes they lose one. He had his brother, and in a few months he would have a wife. Why couldn't he have kept Jack as a friend? Ennis rolled the window most of the way up, leaned against it and closed his eyes. He drifted into a dreamless sleep and when he awoke, the truck was not moving. His head was tilted into his hat, which was pushed against the glass, and he could see in the side mirror that the driver was standing a few yards from the rear of the truck with his back to it and his hands hidden in front of his body, facing the setting sun. Ennis assumed he was taking a piss, but then he noticed that he was swaying back and forth, just slightly. The man turned around abruptly, swiping a finger over the corner of one eye. Ennis closed his own eyes and feigned sleep until the truck was rolling once again. He carefully shifted into a more comfortable position and fell back to sleep.

The next thing he knew the man was nudging his arm. It was nearly dark and the truck was stopped at a closed Esso station on the edge of a town.

"This is Riverton. You want me to drop you anywhere special?"

_A meadow with flowers sparkling in the sun._

"This is fine."

He watched the truck make a U turn and fade into the muted tones of the prairie. Then he walked through the empty streets, clutching the bag with Jack's torn shirt, past the bar that had been his refuge twenty-four hours before, imagining himself and Jack going inside it to have a beer, talking about the summer, what they each would do next, exchanging addresses. What could be so hard about that? The things they did together on the mountain could stay up there. He would have Alma for that, and Jack could be his friend. When he got settled, he'd look up the number in Lightning Flat and call him. The coarse, heavy lump in his chest gradually crumbled away and he found he could breathe more easily. When he reached the other end of town where his brother lived, he saw lights shining from the windows so he knocked on the door.

"Hey Ennis, didn't expect you back so soon. What happened?" KE stood in the doorway holding his baby against his chest with one arm, upside down, her shins tucked into his neck. His brother stepped back to let Ennis come in. The baby's dark eyes gazed unblinking at Ennis from below her father's belt and she held her hands clasped in front of her.

"Was a storm comin in and we had to bring the sheep down early. Missed a whole month's pay." Ennis was trying to remember KE's baby's name. "Peggy here?"

"Yeah, she's havin a bath." KE walked to the couch and dangled the baby over the seat, holding her by the ankles. "Melissa, I guess you don't remember your uncle." He lowered her gently onto the the cushions, her head touching first, then her shoulders and back. She kicked her legs and laughed, showing her gums. KE sniffed the air. "Whoa, you need a shower, Ennis. I'll go tell Peg we got an emergency case here. Get you some clean clothes, too."

Ennis took off his jacket and hat and sat on the couch beside the baby, next to her head. She arched her neck and rolled her eyes back to stare at him and he ran his finger along her forehead. He'd have a kid someday, he guessed, maybe even a year or two from now, it occurred to him.

"She's just drying off." KE came in and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, tickling his daughter's legs. "That's a nasty bruise. How'd ya get it?"

"Uh, just wrestlin one them stupid sheep outta a tight spot."

"You want a beer?"

Ennis said sure, and while his brother was in the kitchen Peggy appeared in the doorway in her bathrobe, just the way he'd seen her the previous night. She smiled at him, then sat on the couch in turn and gathered her daughter into her arms. KE returned with two bottles of beer and sat down next to his wife, laying his arm across the back of the couch behind her. Ennis remembered an old framed photo from the top of his parents' dresser, of his mother and father sitting in that same position, holding his sister as a baby.

"You work with anybody up there?" KE asked.

Ennis felt the heaviness in his chest again and almost said no, but the idea of denying Jack's existence seemed like a second betrayal.

"Guy from a ranch up north near Sheridan, same age as me. Rides the bulls." Ennis smiled at the memory of Jack jumping around and yelling.

"You made a friend then," said Peggy, leaning against her husband while their baby squirmed in her lap.

"Yeah," he replied, jiggling his knee and smiling. "A good friend."


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke to snow. When he opened his eyes he was staring up at the canvas in the blue-gray morning light. His feet were freezing and an icy draft blew over his face. Even though he'd taken a long, hot shower before stretching out under a blanket on the couch, he still smelled like sheep. He touched his cheekbone but felt no pain. The dogs were curled up against his leg. Clutching the blanket to him, he trembled with cold and with fear. Something was very, very wrong. He was sure he'd left here and gone to his brother's house, not once but twice. When he shifted, he felt a lump in his side. Reaching into his right pocket, he fished out the beginnings of a horse he'd whittled from a piece of wood. He turned the wood in his fingers for a moment. Then he took out the knife, cut three deep grooves into the horse's side and put it and the knife into his left pocket.

Just then came the thump of a horse's hoof pawing at the ground. He crawled out of the tent and and got stiffly to his feet, gazed around at the frosted mountainscape and tried to detect any difference from the day before. Every single thing was the same: the veiled mountains, the grass whiskers in the snow. He whistled sharply and one of the dogs poked her nose out of the tent. At the sound of the bleating ewe her ears pricked up and she bounded away. Bending to the opening, he whistled again and after a few seconds the second dog stirred, stretched and scrambled out of tent. Ennis quickly saddled Cigar Butt and headed to the boulder. After the ewe and her lamb had been returned to the flock, he hurried the horse through the snow and down to Jack, reaching the camp site in time to see Aguirre talking to him, looming over him from the back of his gelding. When he stepped up next to Jack their boss gave Ennis a hard look.

"There's another storm comin in from the Pacific, worse than last night's. Pack up and bring 'em down." Aguirre shifted a toothpick in his teeth. "Honeymoon's over." Then he turned his horse and ambled back down the trail.

After they'd watched Aguirre disappear through the trees, Jack turned to look at Ennis, his face serious, staring into his eyes. The jolt of fear Ennis had felt run through him at Aguirre's parting words quickened his pulse, but he felt frozen, unable to think what to say or do as Jack stepped closer. Jack stretched his hand toward Ennis' face, then suddenly snatched his hat from his head and bolted past him toward the meadow. Ennis puffed out a laugh and chased after him, feeling the muscles in his face relax at last. It felt so good to smile again. He let Jack stay just ahead of him until they were a long way into the expanse of swaying grass, Jack dodging and darting as Ennis swiped at him, his black hat flying off into the alpine flowers. Finally Ennis lunged forward and grabbed Jack's shirt and they tumbled to the ground, the way he and KE used to play tag and fight when they were kids. And then oh god, he just couldn't stop that feeling rushing through him, that pulsing energy that made him want to pull Jack to him, different from that brother-fighting charge that gave strength to push and punch, which he'd felt that first day, when he'd fought Jack and been bloodied, and struck back. He bet he could've changed things that day if he'd said sorry, if he'd asked for a lift. They could have been friends. But then he couldn't think anymore, because Jack was on top of him, and he couldn't help wrapping his arms around his back, just naturally, and oh the need for that tongue sliding along his, yeah just like that, it had been so long, nearly three days since he'd had this, the sun smiling on them so warm, the earth so soft. Jack was grinding against him, moaning into his mouth, seemingly just as desperate for this kind of touching. Ennis rolled him so they were on their sides, reached down and struggled to open his jeans, Jack doing the same, and then they were both out and free. He couldn't focus on anything other than Jack's hand on him, his on Jack, their lips and tongues sliding and sucking... Oh... friend!

After their breathing returned to normal they lay on their backs, eyes closed to the mid-morning sun, Jack's hand over his, fingers loosely entwined. Ennis could hardly believe he'd awoken to frozen whiteness that morning. Some of the chill was still in him, though, because now he knew that simple friendship with Jack down on the plain was impossible. Just being near him in the real world would remind him of this place, where no touch was wrong. If someone like Aguirre could see it in them with just one glance, well, what possible chance could they have down there? He would treat this time as the gift it was, this meadow heaven upon heaven. He felt Jack shift, and the red behind his eyelids darkened as his head cast a shadow on Ennis' face.

"You know it could be like this, just like this, always."

Ennis pulled Jack down to him and squeezed him, buried his face in his neck and smelled sheep and horse and grass and sweat. "Maybe it will be," he whispered.

Jack was cheerful, whistling and joking all the way down, not seeming to care that Ennis was silent. Ennis cringed even more as Aguirre berated them but Jack just smoked unperturbedly, gazing up at the peaks. At the truck, Ennis spent several minutes bent under the hood, stalling, dreading to meet Jack's eyes. Jack seemed to sense something was wrong because he didn't smile when the engine turned over. He got out of the truck and shut the door gently, leaving his fingers on the handle, thumb smoothing the hot metal, back and forth. Ennis leaned back against the hood and kept his eyes on the ground, scuffing his boot in the dirt.

"So. We got some extra time on our hands," Jack said lightly. "Thinkin maybe we could look round see if any ranches needed some extra hands for a month or two, make up for the pay we lost."

There it was. Last night he would've been OK with that, thought it might work. After a long moment Ennis took a deep breath and glanced at Jack but couldn't hold his gaze. "I gotta find somethin permanent near Riverton. Gettin married 'n all... "

"But I thought..." Jack began weakly.

"Won't work, Jack," Ennis rushed on. "It's... I gotta..." He twisted the potato sack in his hands. "I'll see y'around," he choked out and pushed away from the truck, propelling himself onto the street. He sped up until he was almost running, but didn't hear the sound of the truck door slamming. After a minute he slowed and glanced back. Jack was on his knees by his truck, bent double, clutching his stomach, and the man who'd checked on Ennis was leaning over him.

He sprinted to the junction then, desperate to get away, trying to wipe that last sight of Jack from his mind, and started walking south. When he'd gone a couple hundred yards he stopped and looked back. Jack's truck came roaring up to the junction and whipped into the turn toward the north, gravel flying out from the wheels. Ennis stared after it, his throat so tight he could barely breathe and his eyes stinging. He felt he was living an endless nightmare he couldn't wake from, that got worse each day except for that morning's one bright interlude.

He heard the 18-wheeler coming but didn't turn or stick out his thumb. He let several other vehicles pass him by until he heard and then saw the black pickup approaching at last. _Please let it be Jack. Please don't let it be Jack._

It wasn't Jack. The same man leaned across the seat and asked where Ennis was going. Ennis told him, and got in the truck.

"You smell like sheep." The man said without judgment, and again there was that accent.

"I was herdin more'n a thousand of 'em for the summer."

"Summer is not over."

"Storm comin. Had to bring 'em down early."

"I did that when I first came out here," the man said. "I helped my cousin but I was useless, even for cooking. But at least my cousin was not alone."

Ennis stared out of his window.

"What will you do now?"

Ennis looked down at the bag in his hands. He had nothing from Jack this time, not even a bruise. "Gettin married soon so guess I'll look for somethin on a ranch round Riverton."

"My cousin's ranch needs help but it's no place for a family man. Too far from anything."

"Your cousin from around here, then?"

"He is an orphan and was taken in by a couple here when he was 12 years old."

"Your folks couldn't take him?"

"My parents were also dead."

"You live there, too?"

"Yes."

He kept asking questions because talking to this man took his mind off Jack, but only some.

"Married?"

The man was silent for a long moment while he one-handedly drew out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, extracted one, put it in his mouth, replaced the pack, then fished a small box of matches from his pocket. With one hand he nimbly opened the box, dug out a match stick, closed the box and scratched the match head along the side. After lighting the cigarette he blew out the match and flicked it away. "Oh," he said, glancing at Ennis. "I should have asked you if you wanted one. Do you?"

Ennis hadn't had a smoke since they'd brought the sheep down; he nodded. The man went through all the steps again, so that he had two cigarettes between his lips as he lit up, then passed one to Ennis.

"What was your question again?"

"Nothin."

They smoked in silence after that. When he'd finished the cigarette Ennis flicked the butt onto the road and rolled up the window, leaned his head on the glass and dozed off. When he awoke the truck was stopped in front of the Esso station, the sun hovering above the distant peaks.

"We're in Riverton. You OK getting out here?"

"Yeah, thanks." He watched the truck turn around and return the way they'd come.

He walked through town until he reached KE's house and knocked on the door. Peggy greeted him with the baby in her arms.

"Ennis! Thought you were gonna be away until middle of next month. KE's not back from the lumber yard but come in." She looked at him closely with those piercing eyes. "Looks like the mountain life was good for ya. Need a shower, though. You hungry?" she asked as she turned to let him in.

He mumbled something affirmative as he entered and then sank onto the couch. His sister-in-law set her daughter down on the other end and went into the kitchen. Ennis and the baby stared at each other; he was relieved she'd inherited the Del Mar eyes and not her mother's. Peggy soon returned with a ham sandwich and a beer.

"Went into Woolworth's today to see the girls and show off Melissa," she said as she picked up her daughter and sat down opposite him. "Alma was askin about you, if we'd heard anything. Reminded her you didn't have a phone or mail service up there."

He chewed a mouthful of sandwich slowly, delaying his reply. The reality of Alma hit him like a powdery snowball and the empty feeling in his gut was no longer due to hunger. She was the reason he'd... no, not the reason. There was another word that meant almost that, he'd learned it in school, it started with R, too. But he was too tired to think about the meanings of words. He watched the baby lying back against Peggy's chest, sucking her thumb, eyelids drooping, and imagined the warmth radiating off her, just like... maybe that kind of easy holding could fill the space in his heart. Would be someone who was part of him and belonged to him, no questions asked.

"Guess I'll go see her tomorrow," he said at last. There was always the chance that tomorrow wouldn't come.


	3. Chapter 3

He awoke to snow. After staring up at the canvas for a few moments, he felt in his left pocket for the wood horse but it wasn't there. It was in the right one. The three grooves were gone. It really was a brand new day.

His toes were freezing as usual, so he sat up and pulled off his boots, then tucked his feet under one of the dogs to warm them and wrapped the blanket more tightly around himself. There was no point getting up immediately. The snow would stop, the sun would come out and melt what had stuck to the ground in an hour or so. And he didn't want to meet Aguirre again. He turned the horse in his fingers and wondered if he'd made the legs and neck too short. He glanced at one of the blue heelers and decided carving a dog would be simpler. The sound of the lost ewe bleating reached their ears and they stirred. One of them bolted out of the tent and the other settled back into the warm nest. Ennis studied her head as he shaped the lump of aspen.

When the sun appeared he'd made enough progress with the knife that the wood no longer resembled a horse. He carried on carving a bit longer. There was no risk of meeting Aguirre now, but he was nervous about going to Jack. He'd hurt him worse than ever the previous day, and wasn't sure what to do to avoid that. He returned the wood and the knife to his pocket and crawled out of the tent to go through the usual routine. After he'd checked on the flock, he packed up the pup tent and headed down.

When he arrived at the camp site, the tent was rolled up and piled along with everything else near the mule. Jack was sitting on the chopping block, arms resting on his knees and holding his hat by the brim, watching for him. He didn't move as Ennis rode up, just stared at him unsmiling. Ennis met his gaze and felt heaviness in his chest. He had to remind himself that Jack was dejected about having to leave – Ennis hadn't hurt him yet. The first day, Jack had given him the news matter-of-factly and by this time Ennis had come to realize that Jack hadn't assumed then that they would have to separate when they left the mountain. Now that Ennis was coming later, Jack must've had time to think things through, so of course he could understand that it wasn't going to be like that. The problem was, how to make the most of this last morning without giving Jack false hope?

As Ennis dismounted, Jack rose and walked over to him, stood close and murmured "Aguirre came by. Another storm's comin. We have to bring 'em down."

Ennis stood dumbly, waiting for guidance from some source. When he could no longer bear inaction, he simply pressed his hands to either side of Jack's face, stepped close and kissed him. Jack's body stiffened in shock and he let go of his hat, his eyes staring wide – Ennis had never taken the initiative in this way, not without roughhousing first. After a few seconds Jack flowed into the kiss, like a strong current. His arms went around Ennis, pushing their groins together and Ennis felt that thing surge up in him, that need that he'd seldom felt when he embraced Alma. He shoved her out of his mind, so that this place would stay pure, and turned them without breaking the kiss, backing Jack slowly towards the meadow. When Jack realized Ennis' intention he pulled away, took his arm and began tugging him in the right direction and then they were running, Ennis slipping out of his grasp and sprinting ahead. When they reached the constellation of blooming columbine Ennis suddenly halted and let Jack stumble into him and then they fell into the grass, laughing.

Ennis crawled onto Jack and kissed him hard, then licked and sucked his way down his body as he pulled open the snaps of his shirt. After he unbucked his belt, Ennis felt Jack's hands push against his in order to hurry along the rest of the unfastening. Jack shoved his jeans down his thighs and made to turn over but Ennis stopped him.

"We don't have nothin and you're gonna be in the saddle all afternoon."

"Whad'ya wanna do, then?".

"This." He took a deep breath and lowered his head to take Jack in, hesitantly. It was only the second time he'd done this and he felt nervous. When he was fucking Jack he could see they were alone but like this, his field of vision limited to his stomach, he imagined eyes on him. And he couldn't pretend he was doing something else, either. But he had to compensate Jack for the pain inflicted yesterday, for the hurt awaiting him later that day. Like the other time, he tried to copy what Jack had done to him that had felt so good. As soon as he closed his lips around the smooth head and let his tongue swirl around it, Jack yelled his name so loud Ennis flinched and nearly bit him. But then Jack was making all the right noises and that encouraged him in every way.

Afterwards, they lay entwined in the sun. Again, the shadow fell across Ennis' face but Jack didn't speak. Ennis opened one eye.

"Ennis."

"Yeah?"

"What if we look round for some work on a ranch for a month or two when we get down? I could use the money."

Ennis tried to imagine working side by side with Jack with people around, sleeping in a bunkhouse with other men snoring in beds next to them. It made his gut ache to think of it. He just wanted to lie with him here in the grass forever. What if this was the way it would always go? He sighed. That didn't seem like such a bad prospect compared to the alternative. But Jack only had this one day.

"Yeah Ennis," Jack went on, seeming to take his sigh to mean yes. "We both got time. Find us a place that'll take us both, maybe right into winter and then –"

"It ain't gonna be that way, Jack." Ennis sat up and put on his hat. "How can we be together round other people? If this thing grabs hold of us, in the wrong place, at the wrong time, we're dead."

Jack stared at him. "What're you talkin about, dead?"

"Used to be these two old guys ranchin up together near us, Rich and Earl. Everybody joked about 'em, even though they was a coupla tough old birds. When I was about nine they found Earl in a ditch, beat to death, dick pulled off." Ennis made himself stop ripping the wild columbine flowers from their stems.

"You saw him?" Jack whispered.

"My daddy made sure of it. For all I know he done the job."

"But that don't mean—"

"Means a guy can get killed and left in a ditch cause a doin what we do. That's the bottom line." He closed his fist around a clump of grass and flowers and wrenched them away from the rest of the turf. He blinked his stinging eyes and felt Jack's fingers stroke his cheek. Despite himself, he leaned into the touch.

.

.

The next few hours spun out almost identically to the very first day, except that while they were watching the Basques count the sheep and listening to Aguirre fume at them, Ennis looked to the right instead of the left and noticed the old man with the long mustache studying him and Jack. The man glanced at Aguirre and then back at Ennis, and he could swear the guy rolled his eyes. It wasn't much but it made him feel a little better, like maybe they weren't complete fuckups.

At the truck Ennis didn't even wait until Jack got in before opening the hood. "Better check the carburator. Might not start after all these weeks." He reached in and fiddled for a few seconds, then let the hood drop with a clunk. Jack turned the ignition and the engine turned over after a short stutter.

Jack shook his head and grinned at him through the windshield. "You oughta look for work as a mechanic."

Ennis shrugged and looked at the ground, hands in his jacket pockets. He felt the wood and the knife under his fingers and wondered if, with daily practice, he could manage to carve the whole dog in an hour. Jack liked dogs.

The silence stretched out. Finally Jack slammed the door hard.

"Well, guess I'll see ya round, then," Jack said, staring at Ennis, letting his bitterness show. He revved the motor and Ennis had to jump aside as Jack pulled away abruptly. Ennis watched the truck disappear down the road. The man who'd looked at him in the alley the first day walked past. "Man in a hurry," he remarked, looking at Ennis and tilted his head toward the receding truck. Ennis waited a few minutes until the man rounded the corner and then trudged down the street to the junction. The truck with the talkative driver hurtled past. Ennis stood with his hands in his pockets and listened to the plain settle back into companionable silence with its partner the wind. He watched a black speck in the distance grow slowly larger and felt his heart begin to thud when he discerned the form of the truck. When he could make out the license plate though, he knew it wasn't Jack.

"Thanks. Goin to Riverton."

"I'm going near to there."

Ennis slumped against the door and watched the prairie unfurl beside them as the truck rattled its way along the straight road. For the first time he wondered where Jack was going and how he ended this day.

"You have been herding sheep?"

"You can smell 'em, huh?"

"I did that with my cousin once, a long time ago."

"Guess I'll only do it once, too."

"You don't like the work?"

Ennis watched the road, wondering whether to say it. If he did he wouldn't really be committing himself, since this man was a stranger, though he was becoming very familiar. "I'm gettin married in November."

"Who is the lucky girl?" The man was reaching for his cigarettes. Ennis watched him go through the same routine as the previous day, taking the whole pack from his pocket, then extracting and lighting up with one hand. He didn't offer Ennis a smoke, however, which disappointed him for some reason. _Lucky girl_. He frowned. What did luck have to do with marriage?

"Uh, gal I met in Riverton. Works in a store with my brother's wife. Her name's Alma."

The man smoked silently, resting his left hand on the open window between puffs. After a minute he said, "It means _soul_ in Spanish. Alma. She is your soul mate, then?"

"What's that?" he asked, just to hear what the man would say.

"Someone who is like you and not like you. Who understands you. Who..." he paused and took a long drag on the cigarette. "Well, you know what a soul is, and a mate, so..." The man's voice had grown hoarse.

"Yeah, I guess I know."

They didn't speak again until they reached the Esso station.

"Is this far enough?"

"Fine. Thanks."

Ennis walked through town in the failing light. As he turned the corner to his brother's street, he spotted KE's car pulling up outside his home near the far end of the block. KE got out and looked toward the house, and from the exaggerated way he smiled and waved Ennis guessed he was greeting his baby daughter. He slammed the car door, strode to the sidewalk and bounded up the porch stairs. By the time Ennis reached the house, KE was inside. Through the lighted window he could see his brother had his arm around Peggy, who was holding their baby, and he watched as they kissed each other in greeting. A mixture of longing and envy washed over him as he studied this tableau of domestic contentment. He observed them for a few moments, then turned away, not ready to cut into their scene. It was dark now and he began walking with no destination in mind, just letting some time pass until he knew Peggy would be taking a bath and he could talk to KE. But after a few minutes he realized he was heading toward the Beers' side of town. When he saw their house – bigger than KE's but far from spacious – he slowed down and stopped to stare through the front window. Alma's mother was knitting on the couch while Mr. Beers stood by the fireplace winding the clock that sat on the mantelpiece, as he did every evening at nine o'clock. Just then he heard the porch swing creak.

"Ennis Del Mar!" Alma's voice startled him as she burst from the shadows, then skipped down the steps and threw herself into his arms. Her slight form collided with his body with only a little more force than that of the blue heeler that always hurled herself at Jack whenever he came up to the sheep. As he bent to embrace her, Ennis smiled at the memory of Jack's laughter as he let the dog knock him over.

"Oh I missed you, too!" Alma sighed. He felt a stab of guilt then, that Jack came into his thoughts even at this moment, at those words. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his, her eyes closed. He'd seen few movies in his life, but enough of them to realize she was imitating a screen kiss. Like that one in the film his mother had taken them to see a month before the accident; the one about the Civil War and the saucy dark haired woman who loved the quiet blond man who married someone else... so she'd married a rich man who loved her but still she pined for the other. And there was that terrible scene with her and the doctor and the wounded soldier, where the camera moved back to show hundreds of dying men moaning on the ground... Had his mind always wandered like this when he kissed Alma?

"Ennis, did you just get back this minute?" Alma had broken the kiss abruptly and was screwing up her nose. "It's sweet you came to see me first thing... but...maybe you need to take a shower?"

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'll come by early tomorrow, when I'm cleaned up." How easy it was to make a promise when he was sure he wouldn't have to make good on it! In fact, he could say anything, ask any question... the slate would be wiped clean the next day.

"Oh, I didn't mean... Ennis, you can still..." But he had pulled away from her embrace. Without replying he turned and hurried back up the street, anxious to find KE alone. He needed an answer to a question. As he made his way across town, he pondered: when he woke in the tent in the morning as he was bound to do, and then rode down to Jack, would Alma be waiting for him to appear at her door somewhere? Once again, he wondered where Jack went each evening after they separated, and what he did, believing he would never see Ennis again. He remembered his own first evening off the mountain, holed up in the bar drinking beer after beer, mourning the lost month while hoping that the next day he would have forgotten the whole summer.

When KE answered the door he was holding Melissa upside down and the evening played out like the first time. But Ennis couldn't work up the courage to ask his question. When his brother and Peggy sat together on the couch with their daughter, and that longing came over him, he realized that it was the baby he envied most of all. KE asked about the other shepherd, and he mouthed the same words about Jack.

"You made a friend then," said Peggy.

He looked away, his eyes stinging, and mumbled, "Better go take a shower."

As the warm water cascaded down his back, he ran the bar of soap over his arms and down his chest, rubbing hard and building up the suds into deep, white drifts over the swells of his muscles. The floral fragrance filled the bathroom, blunting the tang of sheep and sweat and smoke he'd lived with for all those months, smothering the scent of heaven and of freedom.


	4. Chapter 4

He awoke to snow. The ewe bleated and the dutiful dog dashed out to find her while the other one snuggled closer to Ennis's legs and slept on. He felt the usual flare of disappointment when he found the piece of wood in his pocket was once again vaguely horse-shaped, but with a dozen deft cuts and parings with the knife it began to look more canine. Then he started on the details, and after an hour had gotten further with it than he had the previous morning. He had the routine down cold.

After many days of trial and error he had pinpointed the optimal time to arrive at the camp site. Ennis marveled at how the slightest change in his time of arrival, or in the way he greeted Jack, could affect how the rest of the morning went. He had fine-tuned both of these so that they ended up in the meadow with most of their clothes off and an hour of freedom before they had to get to the business of herding the sheep back down the mountain.

Every day Jack brought up looking for work together. Ennis no longer aimed true when he shot down his idea. He still said no, but didn't mention Alma, and once when he'd asked if his folks had a phone in Lightning Flat, Jack's face had lit up like a beacon. Now he always asked for the number. It couldn't hurt to have it if that day did turn out to be the last Friday on the mountain, and it left Jack with some hope.

The highlights of this day were working on his whittling, rolling with Jack in the meadow, and talking to KE. He hadn't spent much time with his brother since KE had settled in Riverton with Peggy, instead taking jobs on ranches where he could board. He enjoyed getting to know him better. It felt strange to realize that his brother was not really learning more about Ennis.

He almost always got a lift from the somber man in the black truck, which for some reason never showed up at exactly the same time. Ennis had once given up on him and settled for a lift with someone else, but he'd missed their conversation. Well, if you strung together all the words they'd exchanged over the many days they might possibly add up to a conversation.

_"Goin to Riverton."_

_"I am going near to there."_

_"How close'll you get, then?"_

_"I will turn onto Seventeen Mile Road and then go much further than seventeen miles."_

_"You on a ranch out there?"_

_"Yes, I live on a ranch but I am a blacksmith and farrier."_

_"I wouldn't mind workin with just horses. Wouldn't care ta shoe 'em though."_

_"I don't like to work with animals in herds."_

_"Goin to Riverton."_

_"I am going near to there."_

_"See you got a lotta horsehoes back there. You a farrier?"_

_"Yes."_

_"That the family trade?"_

_"Working with metal, yes. But not forging iron."_

_"Why'd you take up blacksmithin?"_

_"So I could hit hard with a hammer."_

_"Goin to Riverton?"_

_"I can take you there."_

_"That outta your way? You can drop me before–"_

_"It's not a problem."_

_"You live near Riverton?."_

_"I live on my cousin's ranch, a long drive from town."_

_"You work for your cousin?"_

_"No, I have other work. See my arms? One is bigger than the other because I'm a blacksmith."_

_"You a farrier, too?"_

_"Yes. I prefer to work with horses. Not sheep or cattle. You have to be strong and also gentle to make a horse trust you with his foot."_

_"Goin to Riverton?"_

_"Close to there."_

_"You don't sound like you're from Wyomin."_

_"No, I am from east of here."_

_"That's... well, that could be anywhere."_

_"I came here because of my cousin and because I can't stand to live in crowded places. So that is most places east of here."_

_"You goin by Riverton?"_

_"Close."_

_"You on one a them ranches way out there?"_

_"My cousin has a ranch ten miles past the end of Seventeen Mile Road."_

_"So you work with the stock there?"_

_"No, I don't like to work with cattle or sheep. Especially not sheep. Look at my arms. Can you guess what I do?"_

_"Uh, I'd say you're a farrier. And a blacksmith. Cause... I saw the horseshoes in the back and, uh, your right arm is bigger than your left."_

_"You are very clever, very observant."_

He still didn't know the driver's name. Neither man ever volunteered one, which suited Ennis.

Many days, the man remarked that they needed help on the ranch. Ennis and KE had worked on isolated places like that, and knew they were only suited for bachelor ranch hands. Even though he still counted on marrying her, he hadn't made another visit to Alma. Peggy unfailingly mentioned her, and his sister-in-law's piercing gaze always made him nervous. But she was kind to him. He still hadn't found the nerve to ask KE what he wanted to know.

At first he'd been confused and anxious at being stuck in this one day, but now he didn't mind. No need to think about the future. Just an hour of pleasure wasn't much, but he knew it would come around again the next day. Though the certainty that he would get married in the future was reassuring, the reality of it was distant. The hardest moment was seeing the look in Jack's eyes when he realized Ennis would leave him, but he tried not to dwell on that once they'd parted.

He took a long, last look at the carving before putting it away, and scratched the living dog behind the ears as she yawned and stretched. Then he crawled out into the sun and the melting snow and headed down to Jack.

When he reached camp, Jack was bent over, arranging their camping equipment on the ground near the mule. Perfect timing. Ennis stepped quietly up behind him and stood close, already half hard just thinking about the next hour. He was sure Jack was pretending not to hear him. He pulled on Jack's belt so that he stumbled back and his ass pressed against his groin.

"What's goin on?" Ennis growled.

Jack laughed as he straightened up, and leaned back against him. Ennis held onto his belt and pressed his face into his warm, damp neck, breathing in the scent of smoke and sweat and sheep.

"Aguirre came by," Jack murmured. "My uncle didn't die after all. Said there's another storm comin, worse than this one. We gotta bring 'em down."

"Shit." Ennis knew just how to say the word now: not gruffly, not with surprise nor exasperation. Just... letting it leak out like a balloon deflating.

Jack turned around and Ennis kept his fingers on his belt, letting the leather slide against them. They both waited, and after a moment Jack kissed him, as Ennis knew he would. Then their hands were roaming all over, lips and tongues sliding, hat brims rubbing. Ennis kept his eyes open, and out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed green and red on top of the rolled up tent. He'd never noticed the Bag Balm sitting there before. After a few moments he broke the kiss and leaned out of Jack's embrace to pick up the square tin. When Jack saw what he held in his hands, he grinned and bolted, sprinting toward the meadow. Ennis didn't catch up with him this time. When they reached the masses of columbine Jack slowed down, then stopped abruptly so that Ennis collided with him. They fell to the ground laughing, hats flying off, and then Ennis was on top of him, still clutching the metal can. Jack moved his hand down to Ennis' crotch, rubbing and squeezing. Ennis gasped and moaned; anticipating this hour from his first waking moment made him nearly lose control when Jack touched him at last.

"Go on cowboy, time ta come," Jack breathed. Then there was a flurry of hands unfastening and unzipping. When their jeans were shoved down to their knees, Jack moved to turn over and Ennis let him. He was sure Jack had left out the Bag Balm for this. If only he'd noticed sooner. He left off thinking and just smoothed the salve on both of them, massaging Jack, then stretching him, listening to him pant and moan. He took him easy and slow; he didn't want Jack to hurt everywhere when he left him.

.

.

.

They were lying in the sun, Jack's head on Ennis' chest. "This uncle who didn't die, he that special?" Ennis had always wondered why Jack's mother made Aguirre come all the way up to give him that news. None of his own relatives had volunteered to take care of the three of them after their parents died. The notion that an uncle could be as important as parents was one he couldn't grasp. He felt a little rasp against his chest as Jack smiled, then both cool air and warm sun on his skin when he lifted his head and lay back in the grass.

"Oh yeah, Uncle Harold," Jack sighed. "Ma's brother." He linked his fingers together and held his hands above his face, shading his eyes from the bright sun. "He's traveled all over, been to all kinds a places. Use ta visit us every year, help with the calving. He was real nice to me, would stand up to my daddy." He turned onto his side and smiled at Ennis. "It was my vacation. Almost as good as this one." As quickly as it appeared his smile faded. He raised up on one elbow and looked down on Ennis, chewing his lip.

"Ennis," he said, "what if we –"

"I told you, it ain't..." Ennis exclaimed without thinking, then trailed off.

"Told me what?" Jack frowned.

"I... like I said... well, me and... I'm gettin..." Ennis cringed inside, cursing himself. Why did it always have to end like this? If only he could tell Jack about this day, how tomorrow never seemed to arrive and the new day just brought new mistakes. He'd never believe him.

"Yeah alright, I get it." Jack rolled away from him and got to his feet awkwardly, his jeans bunched around his ankles slowing his progress. He stood between Ennis and the sun and slowly raised his jeans, tucking himself in, then straightened his shirt and snapped the buttons. "Wanna pass me my hat, please?" he said coolly.

Ennis sat up, feeling the grass blades and rough stems of wildflowers trickling down his back. He squinted up at him. "Hey, c'mon Jack..."

But what could he really say? When he woke up in the morning, all he thought about was getting down here for their hour of heaven, during which time he put the rest of the day, the rest of his life, out of his mind. He always left it up to Jack to break the spell with "Time to go, cowboy." Which meant that Jack had to be the one to think about the passing of time, because each day Jack had hope that they wouldn't have to part down on the plain. Ennis had punched him only once, but every day he hit him. It felt bad enough having to do it – he couldn't stand to think what it would be like for Jack to remember every blow.

After he'd handed him his hat, Jack turned, shoved it on his head and strode back to the camp site. Ennis straightened his clothes and joined him in silently packing the mule. They rode up to the sheep, rounded them up and brought them down, all without speaking. Aguirre berated them as they smoked and they avoided each other's gaze. Ennis couldn't wait to get away from Jack so he could just let the day spin out and start over in the morning.

After getting their pay from Aguirre in his office, they stepped outside and Ennis simply turned and walked away, his throat so tight he couldn't even manage a "see ya round." He heard "Ennis!" but didn't slow down, then the sound of the engine coughing and dying. A minute later he looked back over his shoulder and saw the hood of Jack's truck propped open and the man who had asked after him bending over the motor. He felt a flare of jealousy at that, then guilt for feeling it.

When he reached the junction he started walking south backwards, scanning the horizon for a car, a truck, any vehicle that would get him away from there, but the road was empty and silent. After a while he heard the familiar sound of Jack's pickup coughing and sputtering out of Signal, approaching the main road. It halted at the junction. Ennis stopped and stared and knew Jack was looking at him. After a long moment, he drew a deep breath and took a step toward him, but Jack pulled out onto the road away from him and roared off. He felt as bad as he had the first day, even though he was quite sure he'd wake up in the tent in the morning, with another chance to... to do what?

Five minutes passed. Ennis stood in the dust, rubbing his thumb over the curves of the wooden dog in his pocket, and watched the sun creep patiently closer to the eternal mountain. He heard the hum of the big rig in the distance, and when it was half a mile away he stuck out his thumb. The driver was talkative but at least he wasn't smart. Ennis didn't feel up to answering uncomfortable questions.

When he climbed down from the cab at Riverton, Ennis considered stopping at the bar. KE wasn't due home for another forty-five minutes. But sitting there would just remind him of other drinking sessions when he hadn't been alone. He decided to find a grocery store and buy a can of tuna to bring to KE's house – he was tired of ham sandwiches. As he took out his money to pay for it, he thumbed through the bills in his wallet and realized he'd been overpaid by twenty dollars. Since he couldn't imagine Aguirre actually parting with more money than necessary, he wondered if Jack was short twenty. He hoped he wouldn't discover that today, before Ennis could make it right.

When he arrived at KE's house, his car wasn't out front. But he knew his brother wouldn't be long so Ennis knocked on the door. Peggy opened it with their baby in her arms.

"Ennis! Thought you were gonna be away till the middle of next month. KE's not back from the lumber yard, but come in." She looked him up and down. "Looks like the mountain life was good for ya. Need a shower, though. You hungry?" she asked as she turned to let him in.

"Sure am. Bought some tuna on the way here, wouldn't mind a sandwich with that. Lived on pork and beans up there."

"Sure 'nuff." She brought the baby into the kitchen and set her in a high chair. After peeling a banana and handing it to her daughter, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out mayonnaise and bread.

"Went into Woolworth's today to –" she began.

"KE ever tell you 'bout Earl?" he blurted out. Shit! Why the hell did he say that? In his desperation to not hear about his fiancée, he'd spoken right out loud about a subject that had been on his mind for days, that he'd been working up the courage to bring up with his brother. Of course KE wouldn't tell his wife about something like that. Jesus, what an idiot he was!

His sister-in-law straightened up and gave Ennis one of those direct, frank looks that so unnerved him. "KE never told you how we met?"

"Not really."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't you boys ever talk about anything important?"

Just then came the sound of the front door opening. "Hey Peg, I'm home!" KE sauntered into the kitchen and he grinned when he saw Ennis.

"Hey little brother, didn't expect ta see you before October," he exclaimed. KE gave him a one-armed hug around his neck and then pulled away. "Damn, Ennis, you stink! Go take a shower and then we'll have a beer."

"Oh no, he can have a beer now while you finish makin this tuna sandwich for him," Peggy said. "I been waitin all day for a bath." She eyed the banana-smeared baby. "When I'm done I'll give her a dunk."

KE took over at the counter, and Ennis winced at the amount of mayonnaise his brother was stirring into the tuna, which he hadn't even drained properly. He didn't mince up some onion like Peggy always did, or put any pepper in it. He would have to arrive at least ten minutes earlier the next day. Then maybe he'd hear what Peggy had to say about Earl.


	5. Chapter 5

He awoke to snow. He'd sat up late talking to his brother about the summer, about KE's job, their sister, money, sports; veering around the subject of Alma and also what he really wanted to talk to him about. Easier maybe, to come back and get Peggy alone, find out what she knew about Earl. She was a little older than KE, and Ennis didn't know her very well. But she always looked at him like she could see through him. When she'd introduced him to Alma at the store, the girl's warm brown eyes had been a relief, her gaze gliding over him like a caress, never penetrating. But now he was impatient to get through the day so he could brave Peggy's stare, learn from her.

The ewe bleated and the dutiful dog leapt into action while the other one slept on. He sat up and took the horse from his pocket but he didn't feel like working on something that wouldn't last. He felt so distracted he didn't even feel like seeing Jack. He lay down again and thought about him anyway, and after a little while he did feel like seeing him. A lot. So he crawled out of the tent and left the other dog sleeping, saddled up and hurried down to camp, Cigar Butt slip-sliding in the snow.

He arrived so early that he caught up to Joe Aguirre heading along the path toward the camp site. When Aguirre looked back and saw Ennis, he stopped and waited for him, squinting and chewing his toothpick. Ennis quailed a little, recalling the honeymoom remark, but... so what? Tomorrow would be a brand new day.

"Howdy," Ennis greeted him heartily.

Aguirre remained impassive. "Tell Twist his uncle's outta the hospital. You got much snow up there?"

"Bout five inches, but it's wet and when the sun comes out it'll be gone in an hour."

"So yer an expert on the weather, huh?" Aguirre sneered. "Well, what you don't know is that—"

"There's another storm gonna blow in, prob'ly from the Pacific," Ennis said, studying the sky and rubbing his chin. He sniffed the air. "Yep, I can smell it. I reckon you'd be better off gettin them sheep off the mountain."

Aguirre glared at Ennis for a few seconds before he muttered "That's what I was comin up here ta tell you boys. You gotta bring 'em down. Be quick now, you hear?" He wheeled his horse away, adding "Want you at the jump off point no later'n two."

When Ennis rode in to camp, Jack was brushing snow off the fire circle stones. He looked at him in surprise and straightened up.

"Hey, why're you down so early?"

"Was cold up there in the snow," Ennis replied as he dismounted. "Wanted to come down and get warmed up." He walked up to Jack, took off his gloves and tossed them onto the chopping block. Then he slid his hands under Jack's coat and rubbed circles on his warm back, tugging his shirt out of his jeans as he did so. Jack gasped as Ennis' chilled fingers made contact with his skin.

"Aagghh! Shit Ennis! Yer hands're fuckin freezin!"

"That's why I'm doin this, dumbass. Anyway, got good news and bad news," Ennis went on, drawing Jack closer and wrapping his arms around his torso to soak up his warmth. "I talked to Aguirre just now, he said your uncle didn't die after all, and he's outta the hospital."

"Yeah?" Jack looked him in the eyes expectantly, like that good news about his uncle was no big deal and it was the bad news he was interested in. Ennis' jacket wasn't buttoned and Jack shifted his body, trying to get inside it.

"Bad news is, there's another storm comin, worse than this one, and he wants us to bring 'em down." Ennis nuzzled his nose into Jack's neck to smell the smoke and sheep and sweat. "Today," he added, his words muffled. He felt Jack go perfectly still.

Ennis brought his head up and Jack stared at him, obviously stunned. "Ennis... I don't get it... When did Aguirre tell you this?"

"Just met him over on the trail a ways, comin up to let us know. Yeah, I don't usually come down this early but... I wanted to... I missed... thought I better check the snow situation at this elevation."

"So we gotta leave, then."

"Yeah," Ennis breathed. As always he had to remind himself that Jack didn't have this morning to look forward to again and again, that this was the end for him. "C'mere," he whispered, though Jack hadn't made a move away. "Let's get in the tent."

.

.

.

The harsh cawing of a crow nearby roused Ennis from his sated stupor; he untangled his limbs from Jack's and sat up, patting around on the ground cloth to locate his clothes.

"Well, better get packed up and head down," he murmured. He was anxious to get going so he could arrive in Riverton well before KE.

Jack propped himself on his elbows and watched him as he shrugged on his shirt. "Ennis, summer ain't near finished," he said slowly. "We oughta try an find some ranch work for a month or two."

"Mmm, I gotta go to Riverton first. Why dontcha give me your number in Lightnin Flat an I'll call you in a few days."

"You'll call me," Jack said flatly.

"Sure. What's the matter?"

Now he was glaring at Ennis. "You fucker."

Ennis frowned in confusion. All the other times that he'd asked him for his number – which he'd memorized by now – Jack had been elated.

"I ain't gonna sit by the phone at my daddy's ranch waitin for you ta call. You can come with me and we'll check out some ranches, or I'll go to Riverton with you. You do what you gotta do there and then we go look for work."

"Jack, no, see I gotta..." How to explain what he needed to do?

Jack was pulling on his clothes, his face like thunder. "No, I see. Just forget it. I'm gonna head south, hit the rodeos." He buckled his belt and stomped outside. Ennis could hear him banging pots, breaking down the camp site. He rubbed his face and sighed. Tomorrow's another day, he repeated to himself as he dressed and set about taking down the tent.

For all his haste and their early departure, they didn't get back to Aguirre's trailer any sooner than they had the other days. Time was elastic to the Basques when it came to sorting and counting the sheep, allowing Aguirre to expand on his opinion about their competence as shepherds. When at last they were collecting their pay, Ennis recounted his pile of bills. Jack saw what he was doing and counted his as well. Ennis heard him clear his throat.

"Uh, Mr Aguirre, I seem to be short twenty dollars here."

Before Aguirre could open his mouth, Ennis said "And I got an extra twenty so I guess it's yours." It pained Ennis to see the gratitude in Jack's eyes. How quickly he forgave him!

Then it was truck, carburator, hem and haw and in the end Jack did give Ennis his parents' phone number. He promised to call him, and before he turned to leave he put his palm to Jack's face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. He'd checked when they were in the the trailer: Aguirre couldn't see them from his desk. He watched Jack drive off and made his way to the road.

Twenty minutes passed. Ennis stood in the dust, rubbing his thumb over the curves of the horse carving in his pocket, watching the golden sun creep closer to the immoveable mountain. He was so goddamn sick of this day! Two cars came along during the time he waited there but he ignored them. Finally he heard the unmistakeable rattle of the black truck in the distance. He was so used to getting a lift from the driver that he forgot to stick out his thumb as it approached. When the pickup failed to slow down he frowned, then thrust his arm in the air, palm forward. It screeched to a halt just past him; he walked over and looked in the window.

"Goin to Riverton."

The man looked amused. "I'm off duty."

"What?"

"You think I'm a taxi?" he chuckled.

Ennis felt his face heating up. "Uh, sorry... didn't mean..." but the man beckoned him to open the door.

"It's alright, get in. I am going near to Riverton."

Ennis climbed in but was too embarrassed to speak or even look at the driver.

"Feeling sheepish?"

"Well, been herdin sheep on the mountain all summer so yeah, guess you could say that," he muttered. Ennis felt even more foolish when the man burst out laughing. He tamped down his anger, knowing by now the guy wasn't making fun of him.

"Thank you for that. I haven't laughed in a long time. Don't be angry," he said, taking in Ennis' grim expression. "I was a shepherd once. I hated the sheep. They are very stupid."

Ennis allowed himself a little smile. "Yeah, much rather work with cattle."

The man pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and put it to his lips. Then he plucked a Zippo lighter from a space in the dashboard where a radio should have been, flicked it open and lit up. Ennis blinked in surprise at this quick maneuver. He had never noticed the lighter there.

"My cousin's cattle ranch is looking for help if you need a job. If you are interested I could take you there now."

"Maybe next time," Ennis replied. He wanted to talk to Peggy tonight. When he glanced at the man and noticed his puzzled expression, he realized his mistake. "I mean, I'll think about it. It's pretty far from Riverton."

"I didn't tell you where the ranch is." The driver puffed on his cigarette. "I think spending all summer with sheep did something to your mind. Were you all alone up there?"

Ennis sighed deeply. "Was with another guy, same age as me."

"What's the matter? You didn't get along?"

"Yeah, we did." He felt weary, tired of reminding himself that this guy didn't know anything about him. Yet it was clear to him, after all these rides, that this wasn't an ordinary man. If Ennis said something strange to him, he probably wouldn't kick him out of the truck, or sneer at him, or do any of the things he feared.

"We got along real well," he continued. "Real well. But I'm engaged to a girl, and... and..." He squeezed the knuckles of one hand with the other and stared through the side window at the plain unfurling beside the truck.

"And you don't want to disappoint her even though you would rather go off with the shepherd."

Ennis turned and looked at the man in astonishment. He'd said exactly what Ennis felt, but he made it sound so innocent.

"You spent a few months with only him for company. You have both had difficult lives, things you can't forget, and up there you felt free. Am I right? Yes, I see it's true." He smoked silently, his cigarette remaining between his lips as he inhaled and exhaled, so that his words were pinched as he talked around it. "Now you are back down in the real world. Your family expects you to do certain things—"

"My folks ain't livin."

"– especially when they are dead."

They rode in silence the rest of the way.

From the Esso station Ennis walked directly to KE's house. When he knocked on the door, he heard Peggy's voice call out "Be right there!" from inside. A long minute later she opened the door. She wasn't holding the baby.

"Oh hey, Ennis. Come on in, I'm just changin Melissa." He followed her into the small bedroom where her daughter was lying naked on a plastic mat on the dresser. "Weren't you s'posed to be up there for another month or so?"

He stood in the doorway and explained about the storm and watched her, noticing that she didn't mention him needing a shower. He could smell the competition.

"You hungry, Ennis? Want a sandwich?" she asked as she washed her hands in the bathroom. Then she led the way to the kitchen carrying Melissa, and set her down in the high chair. Ennis took a banana from the bunch on the counter, peeled one and set it on the high chair tray while Peggy took a plate of ham, mayonnaise and bread from the refrigerator.

Ennis leaned against the counter with his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. "Uh, y'know when me and KE were kids there was these two old guys on a ranch..." he began, but suddenly his sister-in-law swore loudly. She brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it for a few seconds. He could see she'd cut herself while slicing ham off the bone. Judging from the size of the drops of blood on the counter it was bleeding hard. Startled by her mother's cry, the baby started wailing, then KE arrived... Shit. As his brother tended to his wife and child, Ennis retreated to the living room couch. He stretched out and closed his eyes. Another fucking day to get through before he could try again.


	6. Chapter 6

He awoke to snow and lay still, feeling the flakes that drifted in touch his face and melt. The heat of the dogs snuggled against his legs felt good, and he wished he were holding a warm body in his arms right then. He thought about the pictures he'd looked at before he fell asleep on the couch, how they'd been mixed in with all the other photos in the family album as if they belonged. He knew that in life the two men hadn't been invited to join those other relatives, but at least Peggy had belatedly granted them a place.

He pieced together in his mind all the snippets of conversation he'd managed to squeeze into the few minutes they'd had alone each day. Over the course of many, many days, he'd figured out how to add seconds to the scant minutes available to ask her questions before his brother arrived home. He no longer waited for her to answer the door, he just just knocked, walked in calling her name and that gained a minute. He made small talk while watching her change Melissa – he'd learned it was not the moment for questions. (If he did have a kid he'd know from day one exactly what to do with a crappy diaper.) In the kitchen, he declined a sandwich and ate the banana himself, first breaking off the tip to give to the baby.

_"Uh, how'd you and KE meet, anyway?"_

_"Surprised he never told you. Well, men never talk to each other about important things," she smirked._

_"He just said he met you here in Riverton while I was workin on that ranch near Glenrock."_

_"No, I met KE at the diner in Sage five years ago."_

_"But... he was only seventeen then."_

_"I was not robbin the cradle, Ennis! Just got to talkin and he told me about you all losin the ranch. I felt real sorry for him and told him if he ever came to Riverton I'd help him find a job."_

_"Hey little brother, you're back early!"_

.

.

.

.

_"Um, Peggy, KE said once that he first met you in Sage. When was that?"_

_"He didn't tell you why I was there? Why do men always skip the important stuff? My great uncle died and my brother and I were his nearest relations. His ranch went to us so we came out to have a look at it. KE was sittin next to us in the diner and we bought him a meal cause he looked so scrawny and didn't have hardly enough money for coffee. You all were about to lose the ranch and we felt guilty cause we were gettin one dropped in our laps. Course that was before we actually saw the place."_

_"Hey little brother, you're back early!"_

.

.

.

.

_"Say Peg, KE said you used to own a ranch near where we grew up. I thought you always lived in Riverton."_

_"Always been in Riverton. I only owned a ranch on paper for a short while. My great uncle had a ranch out there and when he died it went to me and my brother cause he never had kids and we were his only living relatives. It wasn't worth much. He used to run it with another guy but he died a few years before and then the place went downhill. Me and Jimmy sold it and my half was only enough to buy this little house."_

_"Huh, I thought you were rentin this place."_

_"Nope. KE moved in with me. We're savin to buy a bigger place together."_

_"Hey little brother, you're back early!"_

.

.

.

.

_"Say Peg, KE told me you used to have family near where we grew up. What happened to 'em?"_

_"Just had a great uncle who owned a ranch with another guy. I didn't really know him and grandpa and daddy hardly ever talked about him. The other man died ten years ago. When Uncle Richard passed on in '58, me and my brother Jimmy inherited the place. I thought him and Earl were just business partners, but when we went out to look at the place..."_

_"Hey little brother, you're back early!"_

.

.

.

.

_"Say Peg, KE said you used ta have a relative who ran a ranch with another guy out near where we grew up."_

_"That's all he told you? You don't know that it's 'cause a my great uncle that I met KE? Jeez, don't you two talk about anything? You knew more about my Uncle Richard than I did. I heard Earl'd died in an accident. But when I came out to the ranch after my uncle died – did you know I inherited half the ranch? That's how I came to buy this little house. Anyway, I met KE at a diner in Sage and he told me what happened to Earl. What you saw."_

_"Hey little brother, you're back early!"_

.

.

.

.

_"Peg, KE told me about how you were related to the man who ranched up with the old guy we saw dead when we were kids."_

_"Oh yeah. Poor Uncle Rich. They ran that ranch for years but they were together even before that. It was KE who told me 'bout how Earl died. I'd heard it was an accident. My grandpa was his brother and cut him out of his life when he found out he was queer. But most of the rest of the family didn't care. Well, they didn't hate him for it. But he and Earl kept themselves apart, scared they'd stir up bad feelins, I guess. I found some pictures of them together when my brother and I inherited the house. I put 'em in the photo album—"_

_"Hey Ennis, didn't expect you back so soon."_

_"I'm just tellin Ennis about those pictures of Great Uncle Rich."_

_"Oh yeah, guess you never seen 'em. We'll get 'em out later but first you gotta take a shower, little brother."_

Afterwards, KE had forgotten about the photo album. They'd drunk beer, eaten the meal Peggy made and talked about other things, but Ennis had only half listened, as he knew most of the conversation by heart. He knew he should broach the subject that was gnawing at him, but he just couldn't bring himself to inject the serious into their new camaraderie.

When at last he'd been left alone on the couch, Ennis had gone directly to the bookcase and pulled out the photo album he'd spotted on the top shelf. To his surprise, it contained not just pictures of Peggy's family but also snapshots of his own family and other relatives. This collection was for Melissa, he realized – through her he was linked to Rich by blood, and to Earl by... well, nothing the law recognized but he knew the link was real, forged by time.

.

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.

The lost ewe began to bleat and the dutiful dog stirred, rose and bounded out of the tent. He stroked the sleeping dog's head and scratched her behind the ears. He didn't feel like starting the carving again; he had somewhere to go.

When he arrived at the camp site, Jack was exactly where he'd been when Ennis had come down every day for over a weeks' worth of days. All the camping equipment was arranged in a neat row, ready to be lashed onto the mule, and Jack was standing with his hands in his pockets, surveying it. Ennis came up behind him and wrapped one arm across his chest and gripped his jacket with the other.

"What's the matter?" he murmured as usual. Without turning around Jack told him about Aguirre's order to bring the sheep down early. These past few days Ennis had been anxious to get through the daylight hours in order to hear Peggy's story, so he hadn't tried to get Jack into the meadow. He'd just mutter a complaint, hold onto him for a minute, then help pack up. Jack was always subdued, never playful like other days, and each time Ennis held him a little longer. They rode off without speaking, and it gave Ennis the time and tranquility to contemplate the facts of his life and what he might do if he were released from this endless day.

At the trailer they counted their pay and made the correction, then Ennis fixed Jack's carburator. He asked for Jack's phone number in Lightning Flat and declined his offer of a lift somewhere. Recently, each day had gone exactly the same way, which suited Ennis except for the fact that when they parted, Jack always seemed slightly more somber than the previous day, like a light gradually dimming. It had made him all the more impatient to reach the end of his sister-in-law's story.

Today as always, he waited for the man in the black truck to stop for him. Each day was a longer wait and the man was glummer. Between that and Jack's disappearing smile, it felt to Ennis as though time were stretching out and the sun cooling.

At last he saw the black speck in the distance and he shifted from one foot to the other as it slowly approached, willing himself to breath slowly and evenly. He put out his thumb and the truck rolled to a stop. Should he say he was going to Riverton?

"Thanks."

The driver looked sadder than usual. He just nodded, so Ennis opened the creaking door and got in.

"Just came down from Brokeback, spent the summer herding sheep," he finally said, after a minute's silence.

"I can tell."

"Yeah, uh, well sorry bout the smell. I'm sure ready for a shower."

"Don't worry about it. I've smelled worse things."

"We had ta bring the sheep down early cause a bad weather so I'm gonna look for work on a ranch until... uh, well, till winter."

At last the man seemed to snap out of his doldrums. He looked closely at Ennis then, studying him. "My cousin has a cattle ranch about an hour west of Riverton. They're always looking for help. You're not married are you? Because the place is very far from anything."

"No, I ain't married," Ennis replied. "You live there too?"

"Yes, and I'm going home now. If you want to see the place you can come with me. You can stay for the weekend and if you change your mind, I will be driving back this way on Monday."

"That sounds real good," Ennis said with feeling. "Name's Ennis Del Mar."

"It's very nice to meet you, Ennis Del Mar. I am John Steele."

For the next little while they talked about the ranch and his forge there, Ennis' work experience and his family. The blacksmith warmed to him even more when he learned they were both orphans, but like Ennis he was disinclined to talk about his parents. About five miles before Riverton they turned left on a small road; Ennis realized then that John Steele had been going well out of his way to drop him in Riverton. After twenty minutes they turned onto an unpaved road.

The truck crunched along the gravel for miles. In the fading light Ennis glimpsed the white flash of jack rabbits' tails as they scattered into the scrubby range. A pair of long-horned antelope retreated into a distant copse of trees. Eventually the scrub gave way to prairie and the taming lines of barbed wire and wooden fence posts cast long shadows in the setting sun. John drove with one hand on the wheel, his left arm resting along the open window. This really was way the hell out in the middle of nowhere, even for Wyoming, Ennis thought.

"What kinda stock you raise?"

"Red Angus. They're up in the summer pastures now. Justin went up to check on the cowherd today."

"He's your cousin?"

"No, he is my cousin's... well, his... his father." He crushed the cigarette butt on the outside of the door and flicked it away. "Did I mention Sam is adopted?"

Yes, but which day? All the conversations blended and overlapped.

"No."

"Not officially. His parents... he was orphaned and someone found Justin's first wife, a very distant relation. So he came out here but she died very soon after. Justin didn't send him back, though. Nowhere to send him. Just has a heart like..." John's fingers were digging into his pocket, fishing for cigarettes. He went though his one-handed ritual of extracting and lighting up, then drew in two lungfuls before continuing. "Just knew what Sam suffered, didn't want to abandon him. Even though they hardly understood each other." He glanced at Ennis. "His name fits him."

The sun was just dropping behind the mountains when they finally arrived. At the entrance they drove under a wrought iron ranch sign that must have been John Steele's creation. It was painted gray and Ennis glimpsed an intricate design of stars and roses amid filigree that resembled flames. In the center was a sun that was either rising or setting.

"What's the name of the ranch?" Ennis asked.

"It was originally the Double S but we don't call it that now," came the reply that wasn't an answer.

As they advanced along the dirt track leading to the main house, the shadows cast by it and the barn and other outbuildings were dissolving into the larger, creeping shadow of the mountain. A woman who looked to be in her sixties stepped onto the porch and watched the truck pull in. Her blue dress was faded but her brown eyes were bright.

"That is Just's second wife, Faith" John explained. "They married two years after Sam came. She already had grown daughters but she loves Sam and treats him like he is her real son."

The men got out of the truck, Ennis hanging back as John walked towards the porch. He turned and beckoned him to come forward.

"Faith, this is Ennis Del Mar. He is looking for work on a ranch for a few months. I told him you are always looking for hands."

The woman's face brightened in a smile and she offered her hand to Ennis, who shook it, touching his hat. "We sure could use some help here. We can't pay much but the bunkhouse is comfortable and you can eat with us." She sounded pure Wyoming. "Jonathan, Sam's in the stables. Let's go show Ennis the horses and he can meet your cousin."

When they entered the barn, Ennis tried to conceal his surprise. The two men didn't resemble one another in the slightest. Sam was shorter, with dark hair and eyes and sharp features, and was clearly younger, early thirties at most. He was grooming a chestnut mare and murmuring to her, calling her what sounded like Veeza, though that wasn't the name carved into the wooden plaque on the front of the stall. His expression was somewhat woeful, but he smiled when John Steele told him Ennis was looking for work and it transformed his face.

"We can use you, that's for sure! I can show you round the place right now if you want. Most of the herd is up in the mountains. We haven't finished the haying and your coming here is good timing. Why don't we —"

"Ennis has just come down from herding sheep so I think he would rather eat and rest now," John Steele broke in. Ennis thought he detected a hint of irritation in the man's voice even though he was smiling. Sam had the same accent as his cousin, but it was much fainter. "Besides, it's time for our meal as well."

"I'll show Ennis the bunkhouse while you two wash up," said Faith. She led him to a long, low wooden building about fifty yards from the house. Night had almost fallen and a jagged red line separated the sky from the dark mountain range. Warm light shone from the bunkhouse windows. It was like others he'd slept in with KE – wooden bunks on two levels, straw mattresses covered with stained, blue striped ticking; a worn oak table; several straight backed chairs of varying shapes and conditions; pegs along the wall and a kerosene stove at one end. The surprise was the table set for two, with a bottle of wine and two gleaming metal cups. A cloth napkin covered a freshly baked loaf of bread whose aroma filled the room. Two plain white candles in brass holders were already lit.

"You must be hungry. Come to the house and have some soup with me. The boys are eating on their own tonight." She looked him up and down and smiled. "But maybe you would like a shower first?"

From the bathroom window he could see a glow from the bunkhouse. He switched off the overhead light to get a better view. Through the screen door he could see the two men sitting at the table in the flickering candlelight, sipping from their cups in unison.

The bread she put by his plate was warm and the soup she served him was chicken noodle from a can; its unoriginality was a relief. She sat down opposite him with her own bowl.

"Did Jonathan tell you their story?" she asked after he'd started on his second helping.

"Uh, yes ma'am." He wasn't sure though. He knew a few facts from every angle but not everything. A quilt with a few vibrant patches among many blank ones.

"Jon looks like anyone else around here but Sam... you can tell. He spent so much of his childhood hiding. When Jon found him, Sam found himself. But our boy should go into the world now and live with others like him."

Ennis swallowed hard as a longing for Jack swept over him. He couldn't make sense of what she was telling him. But Jack knew how to talk to people, and most of all understood Ennis. He would know what she meant and could explain it to him. But what if he was still here tomorrow morning?

"Jon doesn't want to leave, he feels safe here," she continued. "And who can blame him, after what he's been through? He was engaged to a girl when... well, he'll never marry now. I can feel it." She sighed and gazed past Ennis, out of the window into the dark toward the glow in the bunkhouse. "Sam loves him, but... but he needs to make a real life somewhere and he can't do it here."

When she'd cleared the table, Faith went out on the porch and looked toward the bunkhouse. "You look very tired," she said to him when she stepped back into the kitchen. "The boys have finished so why don't you go over and settle for the night. My husband will be back late tonight and he and Sam will show you the ranch tomorrow morning." She took a flashlight from a hook on the wall near the door and handed it to him. He made his way across the yard, past the barn, guided by the candles, which were still lit. The men were gone.

He pulled one of the mattresses from the bunk and dragged it across the floor to a spot below one of the windows. Each bed had a folded blanket at its foot so he carried two of them across the room and spread one over the mattress. Then he brought the candles from the table, set them carefully on the floor and lay down. The sky was clear, black and dense with stars. Though there were other people not a hundred yards from him, he felt more alone than he had on the mountain when Jack was an hour's ride away. A movement under the table caught his eye – a mouse was zig zagging its way between the chair legs eating crumbs from the floor. He made himself conjure a vision of Alma walking through the door and contemplated his reaction. Did her presence chase away the loneliness he felt? He imagined her coming to sit next to him, folding her legs demurely as she lowered herself onto the lumpy mattress. She looked up at the stars and pointed out constellations to him, but he heard only Jack's voice. Every night for weeks, months, he had watched the night sky, alone or next to him, with the expectation of seeing Jack in the morning. What if he woke up here? The thought filled him with regret. He hadn't come to this place to stay. Not alone.

When he shifted on the mattress, he felt a lump in his pocket and pulled out the knife and the vaguely horse-shaped piece of wood, so familiar after all these weeks. It seemed strange to gaze at it in the flickering yellow candlelight instead of the even, gray light of morning. He sat up and let his knife tease out the form of a dog standing alertly. He remembered the time, when Jack was still the herder, that he'd gone up to the sheep during the day and found him stretched out asleep on the ground, his hat over his face, with one of the Blue Heelers snuggled up to his side, her head resting on his stomach. He'd stood over his sleeping form and felt a surge of affection, but had thought it was because of the dog. He concentrated on capturing the peaceful expression on the dog's face as it had lain there so contentedly. As he traced the grooves representing the creature's eyes, he could almost feel Jack's arm around him as if he himself were enjoying that privileged spot. Next he refined the pointed ears, always alert to any sound of an intruder. Once Jack had come up at midday, left his horse out of sight and tried to sneak up on Ennis. But Jack's favorite dog had heard him and given him away when her ears pricked up and her hindquarters wagged in delight. Ennis forgot himself and whispered "Who's there?" into the dark, just as he had done that day when he'd incited the dog to dash up the hill and leap onto Jack in his hiding place, barking happily.

The candles slowly shrank to stubs as he worked on the carving, letting memories of Jack drift through his mind. With the point of the knife he made wedge-shaped dents all over the body to represent the mottling, and where he remembered large patches of black he traced fine grooves. He could almost believe he was mingling Jack's spirit with that of the animal Jack had loved. If he saw in the dawn awake, he wondered, would he never see him again? Life had to go forward, he couldn't stay in one place forever, he knew. But he needed one more day.

One of the candles sputtered out, the other had just a few minutes left. He put the knife aside and stretched out under a blanket with the dog enclosed in his fist on his chest.

When he woke up it was snowing. Fat flakes swirled through the opening of the tent, touched his face and melted. His feet and gloved hands were freezing. He flexed his fingers and they closed on something hard. When he opened his hand, he found a small, perfect wooden dog.


	7. Chapter 7

He awoke to snow. He reached up and put his hand to the back of his head, probing his scalp, but there was no blood, no pain. The men who'd confronted him in the parking lot hadn't yet laid a finger on him when he'd felt an explosion behind his eyes, just an instant ago. And now he was back here. He understood then that he'd cheated death for the third time.

The first time was around the fourth or fifth day. He'd decided to drive all night, wondering if staying awake until dawn would make today drift naturally into a new tomorrow. But the last thing he remembered from that night was a pair of headlights blazing in his face. Then he'd opened his eyes to find himself on his back in the tent as always. The next time, he'd been pumping up his tire on the side of the road when he heard a bang and felt something hit his face with tremendous force, so fast and hard he didn't even feel pain. The next second he was here, testing his nose and jaw, which were intact.

The day before this one he'd stopped at that bar, as he'd taken to doing, in order to talk to the rodeo clown. He remembered the guy from the spring, and seeing him again had given him an idea. It had taken several visits to draw from Jimbo the information he wanted. If he drove fast and didn't stop for John Steele, he calculated that he could get to the rodeo in that town in time to snag the last ride. The clown had told him that the guy who'd signed for it hadn't shown up. It was a mean bull worth a lot of points. If he could ride it every day, he'd learn his tricks. If he got hurt, it wouldn't matter. Then when he was finally released from this endless fucking day he could go back and win the big prize.

But he'd made a mistake with Jimbo this evening, or rather last night. He was a good looking guy, something he'd noticed in April, but now he couldn't help comparing him to Ennis. He must've looked at him a certain way, or maybe repeated something the clown had told him another day, because he'd suddenly shut down and moved away from Jack. When he'd left the bar later, the clown and two burly men had set upon him in the parking lot. Maybe Ennis was right; you had to be careful. But maybe John Steele was right, too. Because what had he done? Nothing.

It had given him second thoughts about trying the bull, though, because he wasn't sure about Jimbo now, whether he could really trust him to protect him when he was on the ground. Better to break his neck on impact and wake immediately than get trampled and endure hours of pain. But he had to find something to focus on because Ennis was making him crazy.

In the beginning, when he understood that he really was going to repeat this day over and over, he'd tried to take advantage of it, find a way to convince Ennis to come away with him. Nothing seemed to work. Eventually Jack had changed tactics, fine-tuning his greeting so they would at least have an hour together under the sun in the sweet-smelling grass. They always ended up half-naked at a certain spot in the meadow, which he could locate by the mass of columbine they would leave flattened when they rose in the late morning. Afterwards, they lay together and talked. Somehow, knowing that what he told Ennis would not live past the day freed his tongue – not that he'd often kept quiet before. But he could ask Ennis questions he'd never dared pose: about his family (dispersed), his friends (few), his previous girlfriends (none), his dreams (modest). The one topic he couldn't bring himself to broach was Ennis' engagement. He kept hoping he'd find the right sequence of words and touches to lock that door for good. But in the late afternoon, by the side of Jack's truck, Ennis always turned away without ever revealing the combination.

Lately he'd given up. He no longer felt the wild abandon that had driven him to drag Ennis to the meadow and satisfy that hunger, over and over. Not when he knew there was no future for them. He'd worked out what to do to get the only thing that calmed his nerves now. For what seemed like weeks, Ennis had been showing up at precisely the same time, just after the sun moved directly over the tallest pine at the edge of the meadow. Jack simply stood before the pile of camping equipment with his back to the path and pretended not to hear the arrival of Ennis, who walked up behind him and just held him for a few minutes. He had done that one morning on a different day and Jack had craved it ever since. After that, the only good part of the day was talking to John Steele.

The very first day, the original one, Jack had ignored the black pickup by the side of the road when he drove away from Ennis. He'd stopped at the first bar he found and drunk until midnight, mourning the lost month, then passed out in his truck in the parking lot. On the second day, he'd noticed it again on the opposite shoulder, the driver trying to fix a flat tire. The sight of the black-hatted man kicking the fender in frustration had given him a pang. He'd slowed down and stopped opposite the matching truck, and that was how he'd met the older man.

_"Can tell you right now that beatin on it don't work. I sure've tried it."_

_"My jack is broken. Do you have one?"_

_"Sure do. Lemme pull over."_

_"Thank you."_

_"Need a hand with that?"_

_"No. The jack is all I need."_

_"Don't sound like yer from Wyomin."_

_"I am from the east. From back east. You smell like sheep."_

_"Been herdin sheep on the mountain all summer."_

_"Then it's the smell of freedom."_

_"Yeah..."_

_"Summer is not over."_

_"We had ta come down early cause a bad weather... Hold onto your hat, big rig about to blow by."_

_"There. I think that will get me home. Thank you for the use of your jack."_

_"Sure nuff. Uh, guy I was workin with is hitchin up the road goin yer way. Would you give him a lift?"_

_"I always stop for hitchhikers."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"Thank you for the use of your jack, ..."_

_"Jack. Jack Twist."_

_"Funny. My name is John… Steele."_

_"Lemme guess, you work with metal then?"_

_"In a way. I am a blacksmith. If my father could see me he would laugh."_

_"Why?"_

_"He sold metal. But it was jewelry."_

_"My daddy laughs at me even when he doesn't see me."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"I can tell you're a blacksmith."_

_"How?"_

_"There are horseshoes in the back here. And, um, your right arm is much bigger than the left."_

_"You are very clever, very observant."_

_"That the family business?"_

_"No, but my father dealt in metals."_

_"Like gold and silver?"_

_"How did you–"_

_"Just a lucky guess. Why did he stop?"_

_"He's... He had to close his shop."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"You're not from Wyomin."_

_"No, from the East."_

_"You have family out here, that why you came?"_

_"My cousin lives on a ranch. I came because of him."_

_"Watch out, big truck about to...woops! Got it. Here ya go."_

_"Thank you for getting my hat."_

_"Sure 'nuff. You're not married?"_

_"There. That should get me home, at least. Thank you for the use of your jack."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"You smell like sheep."_

_"Been herdin sheep with another guy all summer. A storm came up and we had ta bring 'em down early."_

_"I did that once, with my cousin, when I first came out here in forty seven."_

_"Didn't like it much?"_

_"I did. It was perfect for me then. I needed to be alone with my cousin, with no people around. I was... tired of crowded places. What are you doing?"_

_"Watch it, truck's comin. The BACKDRAFT WILL KNOCK YOUR... See, that's why I had to hold your hat down."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"Whoa... didn't mean ta scare you. It's just a jack. Looks like ya need one."_

_"You looked angry."_

_"Yeah, guess I am."_

_"Why?"_

_"You need a hand with that tire?"_

_"I'm fine. You can talk to me while I work. Who has made you angry?"_

_"Well... guy I was herdin sheep with till today."_

_"I herded sheep with my cousin sixteen years ago. It's not easy to spend so much time with one person on the mountain, unless you are very close. Even then..."_

_"Well, we were... close. But... we had ta come down early cause a bad weather. I wanted to look for more work to make up fer the money we lost. But he didn't want to."_

_"You can't look for work yourself?"_

_"I want... wanted us to work together but..."_

_"But?"_

_"He's gettin married soon."_

_"And you're not happy for him."_

_"He doesn't love her."_

_"But he loves you."_

_"...How... I didn't... We... that's not what..."_

_"It's not true? Yes, I see it is. One cannot say this?"_

_"He says a man can get killed and left in a ditch for doin what we do."_

_On his feet now and stepping up to Jack, leaning close, breath in his face._

_"My friend, that can happen to a man for doing _nothing_."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"Thank you for the use of your jack."_

_"Any time."_

_"You don't look very well. You're tired?"_

_"Truth is, I been livin the same day over and over for weeks."_

_"I know how that is."_

_"I mean for real. Every day I wake up in the same place. Always up on the mountain on the last day. Every day is the same, but different."_

_"That happened to me when I was only a little older than you."_

_"Jokin?"_

_"You are lucky. You wake up in a nice place, just you and your friend. I was in hell. Every morning the same misery, just trying to survive the day, then waking up to do it all over again."_

_"Where were you?"_

_Holds out his hand, Jack takes it to shake. He doesn't let go, gripping tightly, gray eyes staring into his._

_"When you are finally released, you must start living your life. That is the hardest part."_

By now he could recognize instantly the sound of Aguirre's horse approaching and had a good half a minute to brace himself for the encounter. He had learned to look relieved at the news about his uncle, and to grumble about lost pay when receiving the order to bring the sheep down. Ennis had only appeared once when Aguirre was present, and from his snide remark Jack understood that their boss suspected, or worse, knew how they'd spent their days and nights. Jack had to make sure Ennis didn't realize that.

This whole strange experience had shown him that the most minor change in anyone's routine could alter the future. A couple of times he'd talked back to Aguirre, and then noticed changes in the sheep sorting when they'd descended, the other men behaving differently because of Aguirre's mood. He wondered what tiny ripple in the surface of the universe made Ennis arrive at camp at different times. One morning, fed up with its daily squawking, he'd thrown a snowball at a crow sitting in the nearest tree and it had flapped away, heading further up the mountain. Could it have flown up to where Ennis was camped and distracted the dogs, allowing a ewe to wander off, delaying him? He reflected on this while untying the stays of the tent and was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear Cigar Butt's approach until Ennis spoke.

"Jack."

He turned in surprise. Ennis was standing behind him and he looked different, though Jack couldn't put his finger on what had changed about him.

"Aguirre came by, said my uncle didn't die after all," Jack recited. "Said a worse storm's comin and we gotta bring 'em down." He peered closely at Ennis because his expression hadn't altered. Wasn't he listening?

Ennis dipped his hand into his pocket and when he pulled it out again he was holding something. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, I made ya somethin." Jack stared at him. "Know you like the dogs, so..." Ennis opened his hand. Standing on his palm was a little wooden dog, a Blue Heeler, perfect in every detail. Jack looked at it and then at Ennis, who kept his gaze on the dog.

"Ennis?" he whispered. "You carved this?" He could hardly speak.

"Been workin on it for at least a month. It's for you. Take it." Ennis' voice was low and hoarse.

Jack slowly lifted his hand and closed his fingers around the wooden dog. He recognized right away the markings of the herd dog he favored. Turning it over and over, he studied with amazement all the tiny details – the nails, the bump where its tail had been cropped, the way the wood was etched with fine grooves to indicate the dark patches, and covered with tiny nicks where the coat was mottled. Ennis must have worked on this for weeks. A searing thought ripped through him: Ennis had made up his mind long ago that at the end of the summer it was goodbye for good. But why was he giving it to Jack on this day and not the others? Something had shifted. Was this the end?

Jack could hardly work his throat to thank him. He raised his eyes to look at Ennis, who met his gaze at last.

"It's... beautiful. Perfect." Jack croaked out. He looked down at the dog in his hand and swallowed hard. "Thank you, Ennis."

Ennis stepped close to him and tried to embrace him, but Jack was still frozen in place, staring at the carving. He kissed Jack's neck below his ear and licked the skin, then sucked it hard. Jack pulled away, murmuring "Don't. Aguirre'll see it."

"Sorry, I forgot," mumbled Ennis, looking abashed.

Jack looked him in the eye, took a breath and said, "Ennis, why don't we..." But he couldn't bring himself to try again. He knew what he'd say.

"Never mind. Let's just pack up and go."

So they lashed everything to the mule, went to the sheep and brought them down, barely speaking. Jack saw Ennis glance over at him often but he didn't respond. What was the use? As they descended the mountain under the gathering clouds, the sheep flowing around their horses' legs, a bleakness seeped through him. He was sure he wouldn't wake up to snow tomorrow.

While the Basques counted the sheep, Aguirre began to complain, but to Jack's astonishment Ennis spoke up.

"It's my fault. A storm came up one evening, lotta wind and hail, and I didn't go back up. Jack was worried the sheep would drift but I was afraid I'd get blown off the mountain. He was right, I shoulda gone, cause they got mixed with another flock. We sorted 'em the best we could but the paint marks were faded."

Aguirre carried on grumbling but Jack didn't even hear him, he was so dumbfounded. Ennis just smoked and gazed at the mountain.

At the trailer, Jack counted his money and was startled to find he had twenty extra dollars. He looked over at Ennis, who was frowning as he counted a second time, moving his lips. As he fingered the last bill, Ennis looked up at their employer.

"This is short twenty bucks, Mr. Aguirre," he said.

"I got it here, he gave me too much," Jack said to him, handing him the bill. They both glared at Aguirre, who waved a hand at them in dismissal. "Get the hell outta my trailer,'' he spat.

At the truck, Jack got behind the wheel and turned the ignition, surprised that Ennis hadn't warned him about the truck not starting after all these months. It sputtered and died of course, so then Ennis opened the hood. He was bent over the motor for a long time, and several times told Jack to try again. But the engine still didn't turn over.

Finally Ennis straightened up and shut the hood. "No use, Jack. Think yer gonna have ta get a mechanic to look at it."

"You sure it's not the carburator?"

"Nope, tried that."

Jack sat behind the wheel and peered through the windshield at Ennis. Weeks of days ago, when he saw how quickly Ennis could fix his carburator, Jack had realized that the very first time Ennis had been stalling, delaying their parting. On all the other days then, Ennis had wanted to end it, even when he asked for his phone number. That time in the tent, when he'd told him so casually that he'd call him in a few days... that had opened Jack's eyes. He never intended to make that call. A black pit of depression had been widening in his heart ever since. But now, this obvious lie was allowing a spark of hope to ignite inside him. He wouldn't say anything, though, just see what happened next.

Ennis walked around to Jack's side. "Well, uh, I'm gonna hitch to Riverton. You wanna come along as far as the next town? Cause there ain't any mechanics in this one."

That wasn't what he'd expected to hear. He just said alright, so after getting his small duffel out he locked the truck and started walking down the street beside Ennis. He kept quiet, looking straight ahead, and out of the corner of his eye could see Ennis throwing him glances. _Good, let him wonder._

They reached the junction and waited beside the empty road. The wind coursed over the prairie, ruffling the grass, as the reddening sun sank toward the waiting mountain. Jack fingered the wooden dog in his pocket. For a minute Ennis kept his eyes on the point where the road met the horizon, then turned to Jack.

"What're you plannin to do next?"

"Guess I'll go back to Lightnin Flat, help my daddy through the winter."

"It's not winter yet."

Jack stared at him.

"Uh, you ever think about lookin for work on another ranch?"

_Only every fuckin day._ "I did, once."

Ennis looked away and down, scuffing his boot in the dust. Jack willed himself not to ask Ennis what he meant. He heard the 18-wheeler before he saw it, and wondered about John Steele. How would he fix his tire if he didn't come along with his jack? When the big truck came into view, Jack looked at Ennis but instead of sticking out his thumb he turned away from the road.

"Don't wanna go in a rig like that. A lotta those truckers are nuts."

Jack couldn't help grinning. "OK, you're the one with experience." Ennis quirked a little smile and for the first time that day Jack wanted to kiss him. He nudge-punched his arm instead.

Twenty minutes passed, during which Jack fretted to himself about John Steele while noticing that Ennis seemed antsy, too. Two cars came by in that interval; at the first one, Ennis turned away to take a leak so Jack didn't put out his thumb. At the second one, Jack pretended to hear the call of nature as well. At last he heard the familiar rattle of the blacksmith's truck as the black speck on the horizon grew into a dot. He and Ennis lifted their heads as one and looked down the road.

The black truck chugged along at a steady rate until Jack could see the driver's black hat and broad face through the windshield. He put out his thumb and so did Ennis. As the pickup slowed down, he tried to compose himself. _Remember, he's a perfect stranger._ When the truck pulled up next to them, he saw that John Steele was flushed and dirty, his hands smeared with grime. Jack felt a rush of remorse, as though he'd let the man down by not keeping his daily appointment to deliver the jack he needed.

"I wish you boys had been looking for a ride five miles back. I had a flat tire and my jack was broken," he sighed. "How far are you going?"

"Uh, Riv– well, next town to find a mechanic," Ennis replied.

"Alright then."

Ennis opened the door and Jack saw him hesitate. It was a tight squeeze for three men. He was sure Ennis was debating whether to sit in the middle or next to the door. Since he knew this man already, Jack decided to spare Ennis having to make the decision and moved to get in. But Ennis startled him by sliding in first. Jack climbed in after him and shut the door, hearing a familiar creak as he did so. Ennis' arm and shoulder pushed against his and he relaxed into the warm pressure. He let his thigh rub against Ennis', but Ennis closed his legs.

"Why do you need a mechanic?" asked John Steele.

"We just came down from herdin sheep all summer," Jack replied, "and my truck won't start. It's exactly the same model as this one, matter a fact."

"1950 GMC?"

"Yeah, and it's a piece a... it's in pretty bad shape."

"It's probably the carburator. That is usually the trouble with mine."

Jack looked at Ennis and saw red creeping up his neck. He pondered this.

"There is probably a garage in Dubois, about 10 miles from here," said the driver.

"That'll be fine," Jack said dully. He felt Ennis shift next to him, and noticed he was squeezing the knuckles of his left hand with his right.

"I herded sheep up there with my cousin in nineteen forty seven. But we didn't come down until the end of September."

"Storm came up and we had ta bring 'em down early," Jack replied. Was that the thirtieth time he'd said that?

"We lost a whole month's pay so we were thinkin a lookin for some work on a ranch," Ennis said.

The sun crashed into the mountain and exploded; the wind roared across the plain and spun the truck around. That was the only way Jack could explain the heat flaming through him and the dizziness that suddenly hit him. Because how could one simple word – we! – make him feel this way? They were so close together in the cramped cab that their hat brims were touching. They made a wiffing sound as Jack turned his head to stare at Ennis, who kept his eyes fixed on the road though the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards.

"My cousin's ranch needs help."

Jack heard John Steele saying something about the isolation of the ranch and its distance from Riverton, but he couldn't concentrate on his words. Why hadn't Ennis ever proposed finding work together before? Then Ennis was speaking and Jack couldn't believe his ears.

"Most a the ranches I worked on were raisin Red Angus. I like 'em better 'n Herefords, they're smarter."

He and Ennis had debated the merits of Black Baldies and Herefords but he'd never once mentioned working around Red Angus. But John Steel nodded and said "That's what we have. If you are interested, I can take you there now. I will be coming back this way on Monday if you change your mind."

"You work there, too?" Jack asked.

"I live there but I don't like to work with animals in herds. I prefer horses but not to ride them. Can you guess what I do?" he asked them.

"You're a blacksmith," they said in unison.

"How did you know that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because your right arm..." Jack began, "...is bigger than your left," finished Ennis. They looked at one another in surprise.

He lifted both hands from the wheel and held them aloft, letting his unbuttoned cuffs slide to his elbows. "I never noticed that," he said with a laugh. "You are both very observant."

"That your social security number on your arm?" Ennis chuckled.

He had dropped his hands back on the steering wheel but his forearms remained exposed. Jack stared at the green tattoo and felt his mouth slowly go dry and a heavy stone grow in his chest. Then the weight sank to his stomach and his mouth suddenly flooded with saliva as a memory began to paint itself into his mind, the rough outlines building up into gray forms: his uncle Harold sitting in their kitchen when he was a boy, telling stories about the war, and then the war's end, of the stench of stacks of corpses rotting in the summer sun, the walking skeletons, the... until Jack's mother shushed him. He'd taken Jack aside on his last day and talked to him in an urgent whisper, this time showing him photographs that he slid from his wallet. Then his uncle had pulled him close, hugging his shoulders with one strong arm, and kissed him on the forehead, his stubbly chin scraping the bridge of Jack's nose. "Never forget," he'd murmured, "that it can be much worse."

Jack stared straight ahead and felt Ennis looking at him, then realized he'd reached over and seized his friend's hand, gripping it convulsively. Ennis tried to tug away but Jack held fast. Ennis squeezed his hand and Jack knew it signaled, _what's wrong?_ He returned the pressure and hoped Ennis understood that he meant, _tell you later_.

John Steele fished out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. Jack watched him one-handedly extract one and light it with a match, then suck in a lungful of smoke as though it was all he lived on.

"No, that is my social insecurity number," he answered as he exhaled. "It reminds me of who I really am."


	8. Chapter 8

Jack had gone rigid beside him; Ennis could hear him swallowing hard. He slid their clasped hands down, wedging them between their thighs and out of sight. John Steele was smoking silently, his eyes on the horizon. The tattoo meant something, but the signal coming from it was too faint for his mind's neglected antennae to pick up. He'd never felt the world beyond Wyoming had any need for him so had paid it little mind. The newspapers that passed through his field of vision winked their headlines at him but the rest was a blur. It had never seemed to him that reports from the wider world would help him survive. But the way Jack had tensed and grabbed his hand told him the man on the other side of him had lived through something he should know about.

They were on the gravel road now and the sun had sunk halfway behind the mountains. Jack's hand was still gripping his own and he didn't feel like pulling it away. On either side of the truck the jackrabbits scattered just as they had the previous evening, and he watched for the pair of antelope. He knew where to look for them, and admired their graceful forms as they vanished into the copse of trees. When he saw the barbed wire fences he knew they were almost there.

As they approached the entrance to the ranch, Ennis peered ahead and then up to get a better look at the ironwork he'd ridden beneath twenty-four hours earlier. When he saw the stars amid the roses and flames he felt a memory stir, then lost hold of it when he realized Jack's eyes were on him. He turned his head to look at him, his face so near that Ennis could have tilted his head and kissed him. He didn't, but met and held Jack's gaze long enough to let him know he wanted to.

"What's the name of the ranch?" Jack asked, breaking the spell.

"Sunset," John Steele replied as they passed by a few outbuildings. "The man who owns it raised my cousin from the age of twelve. His first wife was a distant relative of ours but she died soon after Sam arrived here. Justin didn't send him back. That is Faith, his second wife. She is very kind."

The woman Ennis had seen the previous evening was standing on the porch of the large house, shielding her eyes from the headlights. She stepped off the porch as they pulled up.

Jack released Ennis' hand. Once they were all out of the cab, John Steele went to her while the newcomers lingered by the side of the truck, Ennis reluctantly putting a few inches between himself and Jack.

"Faith, these two boys just came down from herding sheep and are looking for work for a few months." He turned and nodded to them, so they came forward, their hats in their hands. She looked from one to the other, taking a step to the side so the porch light fell on their faces. Ennis tried to meet her gaze without flinching and found it wasn't so hard, after Peggy. They would just have to get used to being together around other people.

"I'm Faith Wheatcroft," she said, extending her hand. They shook it in turn and told her their names. "We do need help. We can't pay much, but you'll have room and board if that's what you need most right now. Sam will be glad to have two extra hands since my husband's gone to check on the stock in the summer pastures." She turned to the blacksmith. "Let's go to the stables and introduce them to Sam, then you two can eat. I've lit the candles."

They followed her to the barn. As they entered John Steele called out "Sam, we have visitors." Immediately a younger man stepped out of a stall and looked towards them, his dark eyes seeming to drink in the sight of extra company.

"Visitors!" he exclaimed almost reverently. The frank display of loneliness made Ennis look away.

"This is Jack and Ennis. I picked them up hitchhiking outside of Signal. They have been herding sheep and now they are looking for more work for a few months," John Steele began.

"Finally! We can sure use you. I can show you around the ranch if you – oh, it's too dark. We haven't finished haying so it's good you came now. Tomorrow we can—"

"I'm sure Jack and Ennis are tired, Sam," Faith said gently. "Why don't you talk to Jack while Jon shows Ennis the bunkhouse. Then you two can have dinner there and I'll see that these boys get something to eat in the kitchen."

The eagerness faded from Sam's face. He looked down at the horse brush in his hand and rubbed his palm over the bristles. "You're right, this is not the time for a tour. It can wait till morning."

John Steele nodded to Ennis, turned and led the way out of the barn.

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Jack watched them go, then faced the younger cousin. Shorter and darker than John Steele, he looked at least thirty and his accent was less pronounced. He had resumed brushing a chestnut mare. Jack looked at the name on the wooden plaque over the stall and frowned.

"Isn't Wise spelled with just one E?" he said. He looked at name on the next stall. "And I thought Bloom had two O's"

Sam looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Wiese and Blume mean Meadow and Flower. Jonathan named them."

Jack stared back at him for a long moment. "Jack Twist," was all he could manage to say at last, and held out his hand.

"Sam Stahl," the man replied, shaking it.

"Shtall?" Jack said, puzzled.

"S-T-A-H-L. It means steel."

"Are you Ger–"

"No."

Jack automatically dropped his gaze to the other man's forearm, but there was no tattoo. He looked up, embarrassed, but Sam met his eyes impassively.

"I wasn't caught. My parents sent me to an orphanage in Belgium to be safe. When it wasn't anymore they put all the children on a train to the south of France. We camped in a wreck of a mansion in the countryside and then the Red Cross got me to America in 1942."

As if reading in his eyes the questions Jack couldn't ask, he added softly, "Only Jon and I survived. We had a big family." He turned away and resumed grooming the horse called Meadow. Jack watched him mutely.

"For years I thought I had lost them all, until Jon found me. Faith and Justin sent us to herd sheep so we could be alone. He told me what happened to each one of them." He glided the brush along the mare's neck to her withers. "I've been praying for someone to come here, so I can leave," Sam continued in a neutral voice after a few moments. "I have been here long enough." He glanced at Jack. "Jonathan lives inside his memories, you know. They'll never fade." He dropped his hand to his side and pressed his forehead into the horse's neck. "He will stay here forever, but I want to go."

Instantly Jack was at his bedroom window, gazing at the road leading away from his father's ranch. Though he had plenty to hold against the man who'd raised him, his dreams of escape seemed traitorous now. Uncle Harold had been right.

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As they stepped out of the barn into the darkness, Ennis heard a phone ringing inside the house. Faith quickened her step and headed for the porch.

"The bunkhouse is this way," said John Steele.

"I wouldn't mind seein where you do your work."

The blacksmith looked at him and even in the dark Ennis could tell he was pleased.

"I would be happy to show you."

He led Ennis past the sleeping quarters, whose windows glowed with flickering candlelight, to a similar wooden structure thirty yards beyond it. An iron bench sat beside the entrance. When the blacksmith flipped the light switch inside the door, Ennis expected an ordinary ceiling lamp to cast a harsh light over the room. Instead, an ornate wrought-iron floor lamp came on in the far corner, illuminating a single bed and a padded armchair with a sketch pad left on the seat. Clothing hung from iron hooks on the wall, some of which were in the shape of horse heads. He pushed another switch that turned on a lamp on the other side of the room. On one wall, horseshoes hung from nails arranged according to size. But on the adjacent one were other iron shapes, some of them stars like the ones he'd seen on the ranch sign, others different types of flowers and some forms he couldn't identify. Leaning against the wall was a short handrailing in the shape of a leaping fish. The forge was cold, and a dozen tools were laid out neatly on the massive wooden table near the anvil.

Ennis found himself drawn to the objects on the wall. He ran his fingers over the cold iron, noting how the joins had been welded. The flowers were the size of his hand, and he recognized some of them from the meadow he and Jack had spent so many hours in. He looked back at John Steel, who hadn't moved from the doorway.

"You can pick them up if you want," the blacksmith said, as if reading his mind.

Ennis lifted one of the flowers from the nail and turned it in his hands, studying the shapes forming the petals, then replaced it. He did the same with a star and some of the unidentifiable objects. He thought of Jack's little wooden dog and wondered what meanings these pieces of iron had for their maker. He'd never thought that something as ordinary as a sign or a railing could contain secrets.

"How did you learn to do this? Was your father a blacksmith?" he asked.

"No. He was a jeweler. I worked for a farrier when I came out here. Then he died, so I took over his business. But I learned to make other things."

Then he noticed the twisted and entwined iron figures standing upright on the floor. There were half a dozen of them, each one a man and a woman embracing or dancing, their limbs and torsos thin and elongated, their heads nearly featureless. He looked again to John Steele, who simply nodded. Ennis walked among the waist-high sculptures, touching them, noticing where the surface was smooth or rough and wondering what created the pitted texture in certain spots. In the lamp light they cast eerie shadows against the plank wall behind them. He looked once more at the blacksmith, who was watching him with his arms hanging at his sides, ash dropping to the floor from the cigarette between his fingers.

"Who is the woman?" Ennis asked, surprising himself. He didn't know what made him think it was someone in particular.

"She is... was the woman I loved when I was young." He brought the cigarette to his lips and drew on it. "She died in... a fire. Her name was Rose." He turned away, crushing the cigarette into the cold forge. "I should never have let her out of my sight."

Ennis closed his eyes and felt a familiar emotion ignite inside him. But the shame he was feeling burned in his soul instead of his gut. He'd been ready to hide behind a woman he didn't love so that no one could see who he really was. Only one person made his iron heart glow red hot. Wasn't it time to surrender the hammer to him? To tell him: _Make something of me._

His throat was so tight he could barely breathe. He turned away from the blacksmith and moved around the room, looking and touching, feeling the life in the pieces. At the table, he studied the tools. He picked up one and John Steele said, "That is a gouge groover." Then "a heel cropper". "A ball pien hammer." Ennis pointed to a candleholder in the shape of a horse's head.

"How did you make that?"

"I can show you on Sunday," John Steel said. "I'll show you how I work."

"You work all the time?" Ennis asked.

"I've seen it written that work makes you free," he replied, lighting another cigarette and squinting at Ennis through the smoke. "You don't believe that?"

Ennis didn't answer right away but fingered the tools on the table. He put his hand in his jacket pocket and felt the knife but not the wood. He smiled when he remembered who had it.

"Now I do."

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Jack stood in the shadows outside the barn, looking at the house and two low buildings with their lighted windows, the first ones he'd seen in months. The one furthest away went dark, and then he saw two orange points of light dancing and bobbing in the night air, coming closer. Soon he recognized Ennis' figure and his hand went automatically to his pocket to fondle the little dog, stroking it in time to his friend's steps as though it had the power to pull him toward Jack. John Steele veered off toward the bunkhouse but Ennis walked straight to Jack and stood close, stubbing his cigarette out on the barn wall next to his head.

"I wanna stay here," he said low. "Do you?" Jack could smell the cigarette on his breath, and the sheep and sweat on his clothes, could feel the unspoken _we_ crackle between them. He seized Ennis' jacket in his fists and dragged him around the corner of the barn into the darkness where only the mountain could see them, pushing him against the planks.

"Yeah," he breathed. He pressed up against Ennis, whose hands began roaming under his jacket, inching Jack's shirt out of his belt. He swore if he woke up alone in the tent in the morning he'd kill himself, then remembered that wouldn't even work.

"She wants us to take a shower," he whispered in Ennis' ear. "That sound good to you?"

Five minutes later they were standing in the kitchen, each holding a towel, a clean shirt and a pair of faded jeans that Faith had handed them.

"You're both a bit thinner than my husband but you're the same height, so those should fit well enough. Leave your own clothes in that hamper outside the bathroom and I'll wash them tomorrow. And I'm afraid you'll have to be quick in the shower; there's not much hot water left. I'll give you some soup when you're done. The boys are eating in the bunkhouse tonight."

"Guess I better go first. Can't trust you to leave me enough water," Ennis smirked, then disappeared into the bathroom off the kitchen. Faith nodded at Jack and went outside onto the porch, down the steps and headed toward the barn. After the door closed, Jack leaned close to the kitchen window and peered through the blackness towards the glow in the bunkhouse. Jon and Sam were framed in a window, the double rows of wooden beds behind them, as they sat opposite each other and brought the metal cups to their lips in unison.

He heard the water splash into the tub, then turn to spray as it changed course and ran from the shower head, the metal loops holding the shower curtain clinking on the rod as Ennis pushed it aside. After a moment, Jack opened the door and ducked into the bathroom, then quickly stripped off and joined Ennis under the hot water.

Ennis looked alarmed. "Jack, what if she..." he started to protest, but Jack took the bar of soap from his hands, stepped up close to him and began soaping up Ennis' shoulders and chest, smiling as the suds slid down his stomach. Jack pushed him against the tiles and then molded himself to Ennis' lean body, rubbing, sharing the lather, feeling Ennis soften in some places, stiffen in another. He dragged his tongue over Ennis' throat to taste the smoke and salt and grass one last time before the soap overwhelmed it.

"She won't care, Ennis," he murmured in his ear. "None a them will, I promise."

"Why're you so sure?" Ennis whispered, wrapping his arms around him. Jack pressed against him harder and skimmed his lips along Ennis' scratchy jaw until he reached his mouth.

"Because..." Jack's lips moved against Ennis' as he spoke, "...because they know men do worse things…" He grasped Ennis' head and grazed his stubbly cheek against the other man's unshaved one with enough pressure to make their skin burn. With his chin he rubbed circles on Ennis' jaw, making sure he could hear the rasp, stroking back and forth. "…than this," he finished, nipping Ennis' lips then sliding his tongue between them, feeling Ennis' mouth go slack, letting him in with a sigh, his arms tightening across his back, squeezing him. The heat, the steam, the pulsing cascade, their soap-slick bodies sliding together... here was a second heaven. But a fleeting one because Jack could feel the shower gradually cooling. He pulled his mouth away reluctantly.

"We better hurry 'fore the water turns cold." Jack spotted a bottle of thick green shampoo in the corner. He pushed the bar of soap into Ennis' hand, then poured a big dollop of the gel in his palm and rubbed it onto their wet heads. Ennis had taken charge of the soap and was running the slippery white bar up and mainly down Jack's back, as far down as he could reach. Soon they both wore white helmets of lather, and suds streamed down their torsos. Ennis groaned as Jack ran his soapy hands over his cock and he automatically widened his stance to give him better access. The soap slipped from his hands; that was Jack's cue to begin stroking with a steady rhythm. Soon he was as hard as Ennis, and he took both of them in hand. Ennis draped his arms over Jack's shoulders and let out a low moan, his eyes closed. Jack could feel the water turning tepid so he upped the tempo, finally kissing Ennis with plenty of tongue to bring them both over the edge as well as muffle their groans. By the time they'd managed to rinse off completely the water was cold and they were laughing and hugging one another to keep warm.

They dried off quickly and as they were putting on the clean clothes, Jack heard someone moving around the kitchen. He immediately draped his towel over Ennis' head and began to rub his hair and scalp vigorously to dry it and cover the sound. As he ruffled Ennis' head with the terrycloth he gritted his teeth and growled _grrrrrr_ the way he'd always done when he played with the Blue Heeler.

"I ain't no dog,' Ennis grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes shone. Jack laughed, remembering the gift with a rush of pleasure. Finished with the towel, he hung it on the rod and then quickly pulled the door open, crowding Ennis so that he had to go through it first. Ennis froze on the threshold when he saw Faith standing by the table but Jack was right up behind him and he couldn't retreat. She looked at them neutrally then nodded in approval.

"I'm glad you're sensible boys and shared the shower. We haven't had much rain this summer."

.

.

.

.

The door to the bunkhouse faced east over the plain; the nearly-full moon sat on the horizon, lighting their way to it. Everything was just the way Ennis had seen it the night before: the table cleared but for the candles; the empty beds; the smell of hot wax and bread. The floor was free of crumbs – the mouse had come and gone. Jack took off his hat and jacket and dropped them on a chair, then made a slow tour of the room. Ennis watched him while he removed his own jacket, a strange new feeling welling up inside him that made him draw a deep breath and straighten his back. Those days had been worth it. He'd led Jack all the way here and it was good.

Jack stopped at the nearest bed, resting his hand on one of the wooden posts supporting the upper bunk.

"He said they feel close to their family in here," Ennis said. When Jack jerked his hand away from the post, Ennis moved to his side, slid his hand onto his shoulder and squeezed it, feeling his warmth radiating from beneath the unfamiliar shirt. "What happened to them, Jack?" he whispered.

"I don't wanna tell you right now," Jack murmured, leaning into him. "Wait till morning. Let's just... let's go to bed."

They stood in silence a moment longer, then Ennis bent and grasped the corner of the mattress and dragged it to the spot where he'd slept the first time. He let it drop, sending up a small cloud of dust and wood shavings. Jack brought the candles from the table and set them on the floor while Ennis spread two blankets and two pillows. Just as he turned to Jack there came a thundering of hooves outside. They moved as one to the window in time to glimpse a horse and rider galloping past, heading to the near pasture. They watched them race full out over the ground in the moonlight, tracing wide figure eights over and over inside the limit of the fence. Above the sound of the hooves Ennis heard the clink clank clunk of iron striking iron. He could see the blacksmith framed in the window of his workshop, his arm rising and falling, the sound of each blow reaching them a split second after the hammer struck home. Ennis moved behind Jack and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly so his chest was flush with Jack's spine, and felt him relax into the embrace. He slipped his fingers under Jack's shirt, between the snaps, then pulled them apart so he could slide his palm over his heart and feel it thudding, as he felt his own beating in time. They sank down onto the mattress. The pounding continued deep into the night.

.

.

_"Jack?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Talk to me. I don't wanna fall asleep."_

_"Been a long day."_

_"Don't I know it."_

_"I'm tryin a stay awake, too."_

_"Why?"_

_"Might like to see the sun rise here."_

_"That all you wanna see rise?"_

_"Well, we saw the moon rise tonight. What's left? Oh..."_

_._

_._

_._

_"Ennis, stay awake."_

_"I wasn't asleep."_

_"You were snoring."_

_"I musta been dreamin then, cause it felt like I was, well..."_

_"You were doin that too."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"Jack?"_

_"Mmm?"_

_"They really are cousins."_

_"I know."_

_"It's just that sometimes I wasn't sure."_

_"Ennis. What do you mean, 'sometimes'?... Ennis?"_

_"Jack... I got somethin to tell ya... This mornin I—."_

_"Friend, we gotta have a real long talk. But tomorrow, alright? I think it's safe to go to sleep now."_

_"Mmmm."_

.

.

.

.

Ennis surfaced slowly from deep slumber, a gentle _fip-fip, fip-fip, fip-fip_ penetrating his consciousness, then the awareness of cushioning under his back and hips, a relief after months of hard ground. His torso was warmed by another body's heat, limbs draped across him, a weight on his chest sending puffs of air across his skin as it rose and fell in time with with his own breathing. He moved his hand up and felt his fingers thread through thick, clean hair and graze over a stubbly jaw. Until the end of his days he would remember the surge of joy that streaked through him at the realization that he was off the mountain and Jack was in his arms.

With great effort he opened his eyes just enough to register that there was some light in the room. It took him several seconds to remember where they were. Above their heads, moths were beating their powdery wings against the window pane, drawn to the glow of the candles they had left burning.

Suddenly he felt another presence. He turned his head toward the candles, now mere stubs. Each one was illuminating a blue column behind it. Then he took in the boots at the base of the columns and his gaze leapt upwards. When he saw the craggy face of the man looking down at him, framed by a white hat brim glowing in the light, his first impulse was to shove Jack off him but his arms didn't obey – they squeezed him tighter.

As the man bent his knees, the lined face sank down to hover above him. Two hands came toward the candles, and a thumb and forefinger pinched out each flame. Out of the sudden blackness came a rough, deep voice: "You'll go up in flames, son, if you leave those burning when they're not needed."

When he opened his eyes again he was lying on his side, staring at a strip of gray light between the door and the floor. He felt warmth at his back, at his hips and his legs, saw the arm entwined with his own. Freeing his hand, he clasped Jack's elbow and smoothed his palm down to his wrist. In the same span of seconds the band of light blazed golden. Sunlight slid under the door like a love letter.

To see this story illustrated with portraits by Richard Avedon, go to

Soulan dot livejournal dot com slash 10820 dot html


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